A Memoir
by Taliesin19
Summary: "There are horrors in your past that can haunt you. And they never leave your side because every day of your life is a reminder." With shaking hands, she placed her quill back into the ink well. Hermione Granger's story, beginning from her 5th year at Hogwarts to adulthood. A story of love that obliterates all obstacles. Will be HHr eventually...
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hey everyone! So I've been a reader of fanfiction for a long time now but this is my first try at actually writing something so please please please let me know what you think and if I should continue or not. I have a rough idea of the plot in my head so once again PLEASE let me know if you feel I should continue. Your thoughts would mean everything thank you!

Disclaimer: I OWN HARRY POTTER. Except not.

* * *

><p><em>Love can be beautiful. Love can lift you up and bring you joy. Love can make you smile and make you laugh. Love can be good. But sometimes, love brings tears. It brings pain. It makes you hurt. <em>

Hermione Granger looked up from her desk to see that night had just begun to fall. Her back was aching from hours of sitting in the same position, neck craned over her work. She let her eyes travel back down to the many parchments littering her desk. The light in the room was dim now as she picked up one in particular, the final piece to her story. She glanced down, settling her eyes on one single word. _Hurt_.

* * *

><p><em>1995<em>

Hermione had been lying awake in her bed for what seemed like hours. Any second now. It really had to be soon, light was clearly beginning to show in the small window of the bedroom. If one could even call it a bedroom.

The past several weeks, Hermione believed she had come to know what it felt like to be a prisoner. Yes, she was a prisoner in this jail known as 12 Grimmauld Place. The initial excitement she felt over staying in the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix wore off surprisingly quickly.

Or perhaps it wasn't that surprising.

But just a couple of more hours and she would be free. Free to roam the long Hogwarts castle corridors, breathe the fresh air of the Hogwarts grounds, and most importantly, she smiled to herself, laze herself away in her favorite corner of the Hogwarts library.

She frowned slightly, remembering how her leisure library hours would definitely have to be cut short this year. She couldn't believe the OWLs were already upon them!

It seemed only yesterday she had received her Hogwarts letter in the mail. Where did the time go?

She only wished time could move a little faster _now._ But alas.

Hermione continued to get lost in her thoughts. For someone so organized and logical, her mind was surprisingly scattered at times, moving from subject to subject until it came to rest on a particular one it enjoyed.

_I wonder if the boys are up yet,_ her mind mused. She scoffed quietly to herself. If no one was there to rouse him, she was fairly certain Ron would never wake. _No, that's not true. He would eventually get hungry. _

_I bet Harry's awake. _He was always an early riser. Even though he would never admit it aloud, she knew Harry couldn't wait to return to Hogwarts as well. But if anyone knew what it meant to Sirius to have Harry here, it was Harry.

She wished more than anything that things didn't have to be like this. That they could just be Godfather and Godson without any of the hiding and the secrecy. It almost pained her how much she wished it. That for just once, Harry could have some justice. For just once, he could know what it felt like to live a normal, happy life. She couldn't think of anyone who deserved it more.

Hermione sat pondering this for a long while when she suddenly heard a knock on the bedroom door. Mrs. Weasley was calling them down to breakfast. Glancing at her watch, she was pleasantly surprised to find that the minute hand had made a long journey since the last time she checked.

It was almost amusing how lost she could get in her own thoughts if only she could find just the right subject to get lost in.

What had she been thinking about again?

She paused briefly from her business of shaking Ginny awake. But just as a good dream soon disappears like wisps of smoke upon waking, all her thoughts seemed a jumbled mess as she made her way downstairs to the sweet smell of breakfast.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Okay so just thought I'd add another chapter so whoever is kind of enough to read this story of mine will get more of a taste of it. No major plot lines here just a little more backstory I guess. Once I get some feedback I'll start to move along with the plot I suppose. So pleaseeeeeeee feedback. Anyone? Yeah? Please?

Disclaimer: HARRY POTTER IS YOURS. Except not.

* * *

><p><em>He was my best friend. My first friend. That alone made me love him. It is a sad thing that most are fooled into believing that love can only be romantic. Well, I loved Harry Potter long before I knew what romance was. <em>

Hermione held the old, yellowing parchment in her hands. She hadn't the faintest idea why, but recently she had come upon the habit of taking out her old Hogwarts letter. It was mad really. But somehow, it brought her comfort. Everything started with this letter. The good and the bad. The joy and the pain. Her life started with this letter.

* * *

><p>"Good morning Hermione, dear" greeted Mrs. Weasley as Hermione entered the kitchen, "is Ginny up yet?"<p>

The hint of doubt in Mrs. Weasley's voice was enough of an answer for the both of them, but Hermione shook her head nonetheless. "She's like a brick, that one. Can't faze her in the least. Sometimes I think she's worse than Ron," Hermione exclaimed, incredulously.

Mrs. Weasley looked at her thoughtfully for a moment before both women simultaneously shook their heads.

"Not possible"

"No, I didn't really think so either."

"Oh dear, it's already 9:00 and we haven't even had breakfast!" cried Mrs. Weasley.

Having pity on the ginger woman in front of her, Hermione agreed to have another go with Ginny while Mrs. Weasley went to wake up the boys. Seeing the fuming look on her red face, Hermione suddenly felt very sorry for the twins who unfortunately were her first stop.

From where she was standing, three flights below, Hermione could clearly hear echoes of "FRED! GEORGE! GET UP THIS INSTANT OR-

But what Mrs. Weasley would do the twins, Hermione never did find out because at that precise moment the portrait of Mrs. Black began her usual tirade of mudbloods and blood traitors staining her most precious house of Black. Sort of ironic considering.

On the whole, it was not one their smoother mornings.

Mrs. Black did, however, do an effective job in waking up the entire house, much to the pleasure of Mrs. Weasley. And much to the displeasure of Sirius.

"I swear to bloody Merlin I will find a way to remove that thing if it is the last bloody thing I do!" yelled Sirius angrily.

One hour, a portrait wrestling match, five waking children, and a grand meal of breakfast later, things were finally beginning to look up.

Everyone was back in their room doing last minute packing as Mrs. Weasley shouted up the stairs that the advanced guard had arrived and was ready to take them all to Kings Cross.

"Makes it feel that much more real doesn't it?" Ginny asked with seriousness. "I mean being here this entire summer, in the actual headquarters of the Order. Things still felt…normal. Crazily enough," she added.

"I know," Hermione replied back. "And I have a feeling things are going to be even more abnormal once we're back at school."

"How so?" Ginny inquired.

"Just look at the papers. They're all making Harry and Dumbledore out to be some sort madmen," Hermione explained heatedly.

"But you don't think people would actually believe all that rubbish do you?" Ginny asked, "I mean we all know of the _Daily Prophet's_ less than qualified writing team."

"Well," Hermione smiled with an uncharacteristic gleam in her eye, "at least I helped them git rid of one _bug_ in that system of theirs." Feeling like first-years again, both girls broke out into a fit of giggles over the unfortunate fate of one Rita Skeeter.

"Oi! When you two are finished, we'd like to get to Kings Cross some time in the next 10 years!" called an annoyed Ron from the doorway. "Girls," he distinctly muttered as he walked away.

Both girls rolled their eyes as they made their way out the door with their trunks.

"Don't mind him," said an amused Harry, "he just gets annoyed when girls laugh."

"Sorry?" questioned Hermione.

"He means Ron gets annoyed when he doesn't know why it is girls are laughing," amended Ginny with an air of exasperation, "he thinks it's some sort of mystery he'll never know the answer to or something. Please just accept him the way he is. It's what we've been trying to do all our lives," Ginny declared solemnly.

With that, she left the room with the air of someone who had been greatly bestowed with misfortune.

"Quite the little actress that one," Hermione shook her head with amusement, "well you ready to go?" she asked Harry upon seeing they were the only two left in the room.

"After you," he stated following her out. They made their way down the stairs amidst screams from Mrs. Weasley at the twins who had somehow managed to knock Ginny down Merlin knows how many flights of stairs with their trunks.

No, not one of their smoother mornings at all.


	3. Chapter 3

_I was five years old the first time I came running home to my mum crying. I ran right into her arms and she just held me there, soothing my shaking little body and gently combing her fingers through my wild mess of hair. And when the tears finally subsided, she held me at arm's length so she could look me right in the eyes and read my very soul. Yes, my mum could always read me like an open book. I used to amuse myself into believing it was because she had read so many books and therefore gained the experience. But whenever she looked at me like that, I knew it was time to spill. And with a soft voice and downcast eyes, spill I did._

"_They called me ugly."_

_When you're five years old, everything bad in the world is ugly. The fairy tale stepmother and stepsisters, the wicked witches, the monsters hiding underneath your bed. So that when you're called ugly by your fellow schoolmates, your whole world shatters. You start to believe that maybe you are bad. Maybe there is something wrong with you. _

_This was the first time I ran home crying. But it wasn't the last. And despite all my mother's absolute dissent, I lived the following years of my life under the knowledge that I was, indeed, ugly. _

* * *

><p>"And then you wouldn't<em> believe<em> what that _hag_ said next," exclaimed Ginny, her ears turning the same shade as her hair.

"Well I have a feeling you're going to tell me," said Hermione, who for the past half hour had been listening to Ginny rant on about a certain "slimy pink toad" who happened to be their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

"That thing had the nerve to tell me that my dad held enough of a discreditable position at the Ministry without his children running around Hogwarts spreading lies. As if we're posting up bulletins or something. Which actually would not be a bad idea," she added thoughtfully. "But anyways, can you believe that? I mean all this because I said I believed Harry."

"That really is quite outrageous. I mean to bring up a matter like that in class is completely unprofessional to begin with. But to go so far as to call your dad's job 'discreditable' is just plain rude. Not to mention it's clear she's not exactly in love with muggles, or muggleborns for that matter," Hermione added.

"It's just so mad here this year. I mean I suppose it's mad everywhere but I feel like Hogwarts has always been able to block out the outside world, you know?" Ginny said as she stopped her pacing to gaze out the window.

"I know… I just can't believe he's back," Hermione whispered.

It was only the first week of school, but as they sat in the 5th year girls dormitory enveloped in their own personal thoughts, it was clear to both girls that after the events of last June, life would never be completely the same again.

Upon returning to Hogwarts, Hermione was not surprised to find many distasteful looks being thrown toward Harry. She had maintained small hope that perhaps more people would recognize the blatant truth, but apparently logic was not a strong suit for many Hogwarts students. Of course she could have surmised this years ago when half the school believed Harry to be the heir of Slytherin. She had to mentally roll her eyes at this thought as she joined the Gryffindor table that morning.

"Good morning," announced Hermione to a sleepy Harry and what looked like a dead Ron.

She received a "morning" from Harry and what sounded like a grunt from Ron in return.

"Well we seem ready to take on the world today, don't we?" stated Hermione dryly. "You know you two had better shape up because OWLs are just around the corner. And from what I've heard, OWL year changes a person. You're never completely the same again, you start to …see things differently," Hermione added with a misty look in her eyes.

"Are we talking about OWLs or hard core drugs?" Harry stated.

"What are hard core drugs?" inquired Ron with interest.

"Never you mind!" Hermione retorted with an affronted look towards Harry.

"Me and your mum will tell you when you're older, Ron," Harry affirmed, gaining a smack on the arm from Hermione.

"_Anyways_," Hermione muttered through clenched teeth, "I'm going to start creating my weekly study schedule. I can't believe I haven't already but I've just been so caught up with everything else. Would either of you like me to create one for you as well?" Hermione questioned Harry and Ron, who unbeknownst to her were participating in a heavy round of eye-rolling.

"Yeah sure, sounds great!"

"You always do it best, 'Mione!"

"_Don't_ call me that, Ronald," Hermione scowled, "how many times do I have to tell you that I will not, nor ever will be 'your knee.'"

She turned towards Harry who was chuckling into his porridge, and cast him a disappointed look.

"Sorry, " Harry coughed, clearing his throat, "not funny."

"No, it's not that," Hermione said, "a thought just occurred to me. Well it didn't _just _occur to me. I've thought about before. A lot actually-"

"Well just owl me when you're ready to tell us," Ron remarked, "I'll have graduated by then and moved on to bigger and better things."

Hermione glared at him before answering, "Well with Umbridge as our professor this year, we're going to have to teach ourselves all the material for the DADA practical. I mean it's true we've had our fair share of useless Defense professors, but I think we've reached an all time low on this one."

"I think we've reached an all time low on this one in more ways than you're letting on Hermione," Harry replied darkly.

"True," Hermione agreed solemnly, "how are we supposed to learn how to defend ourselves out there? This isn't just about school anymore, is it."

The three sat in silence for a moment with Hermione's face screwed up in intense concentration that could only be the result of her solving a very difficult problem. Both boys knew this look well and therefore chose to continue their breakfast in silence and let Hermione be.

Suddenly, however, there a was an undeniable gleam in her eyes.

Hermione looked over to Harry for the briefest of moments before making her declaration.

"I've got to go to the library."

* * *

><p>AN: Hi to whoever wonderful person is reading this. I figured I should mention that this story is going to be slightly AU. But only very slightly. And not so much in the earlier chapters. That's all I have to say for now on that subject. Pleasepleasepleaseplease leave me some feedback. Anything. Please I'm on my knees here. It would really motivate me to continue this story because right now I'm not positive I will so yeah please! Thanks!


	4. Chapter 4

_Harry was always a leader. He just didn't always know it. He had this way of making you feel so certain that everything was going to be all right. If the world was falling down, his presence would still make you feel safe, protected. He didn't always have it all together. He had a temper, he was stubborn, and for the life of him, he would never base any of his judgments on reason, only on instinct. But in all my life, I have never met any other human being with a stronger instinct. An instinct to know, to protect, to love. An instinct to live._

* * *

><p>"So, what do you think?" Hermione inquired with a hopeful look.<p>

"I think you're mental."

She gave Ron a seething look before responding back sharply, "you know, I could use some support here!"

"Look Hermione, I think it's a great a idea in theory, really. But how do _you _think Harry is going to react to this?" Ron asked.

Hermione looked at him for a moment before sighing defeatedly. "Not well. He'll probably spew out a bunch of rubbish about how he's not good enough to teach."

"How he's not a good leader"

"How anybody could've done what he did"

"How it was all just luck."

"Then he'll get angry at us for suggesting otherwise."

"Yell a bit"

"And then grudgingly agree to it in the end."

The two stared at each other for a second before bursting out laughing.

"I swear he's too predictable for his own good sometimes," Ron admitted after both had settled down a bit.

"That he is," Hermione agreed. "So, when shall we tell him?"

"We?"

"Yes 'we', you agreed it was a good idea didn't you?" Hermione replied, a bit fiercely . "We'll tell him when he gets back from his detention."

"Oh that'll be a lovely thing to cheer him up with," Ron said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Choosing to ignore him, Hermione began rummaging in her bag. She pulled out a flask, unstoppering it and pouring its yellowish contents into a conjured basin.

"What the bloody hell is that?"

Hermione scowled at him before answering, simply, "Essence of Murtlap."

"Oh, of course."

"It's a solution made from strained and pickled Murtlap tentacles. It has healing properties," Hermione explained patiently.

"I truly admire the amount of energy you put into your school work, Hermione," Ron stated, taking a whiff of the basin.

"It's not for school," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes. "I made it for Harry."

Ron looked at her questioningly. "Why?"

"Well he's landed himself in another week's worth of detentions with Umbridge, hasn't he?" Hermione answered. "And if he refuses to go to McGonagall, then the least I can do is help him heal those cuts on the back of his hand from that awful woman."

As she said this, the portrait hole suddenly swung open to reveal Harry, himself, back from detention. Spotting them, he made his way over and dropped himself on the couch unceremoniously.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione inquired.

"Magnificent."

"Here," Hermione said handing over the bowl of murtlap essence, "soak your hand in this."

Harry , looking slightly skeptical, did as he was told. But the contented look on his face as his hand met the yellow liquid told Hermione that her solution was indeed successful.

"Thank you, Hermione," Harry said, sounding truly grateful.

"Oh not a problem," Hermione answered back with a wave of her hand. She felt the smallest bubble of satisfaction swell within her which she attributed to her successful solution. However, remembering that she was about to tell Harry her new 'mental' idea, that bubble instantly burst. Instead, a small bubble of nervousness took its place.

"So Harry," Hermione began, "Ron and I were talking earlier, and…well…we had this idea-

"There she goes with the 'we' again," Ron interjected, incredulously, "this was _your_ idea."

"Yes, but _you_ agreed with me!"

Before Ron could get in his retort, Harry cut in. "Sorry to interrupt, but what in Merlin's name are you two going on about?"

Hermione sighed gruffly, throwing Ron a vicious look which made him recoil slightly. She then turned towards Harry and began explaining everything she had previously told Ron. That Umbridge was a terrible professor ("Well Dobby could have told you that," said Harry), that they weren't learning anything, that they needed to know how to protect themselves. And finally, that she thought they should learn Defense Against the Dark Arts on their own, and that Harry should teach them.

Hermione inwardly marveled at how accurate she and Ron had predicted Harry's reaction. She forced herself not to look over at Ron because she could tell that he too was trying his very best to keep a straight face. But to no avail. They both threw each other knowing smirks as Harry began unsuccessfully attempting to convince them of his undeniable luck.

But as her and Ron began sniggering softly, Hermione could sense Harry getting angry. And in a split second, the bowl of murtlap was on the ground, shattered as he stood abruptly to his feet.

"STOP LAUGHING!"

Harry stood there, staring at the two of them, a look of intensity in his eyes. Finally, he spoke.

"You don't know what it's like. You've never had to face him, have you? You think it's just memorizing a bunch of spells and throwing them at him, like you're in class or something. The whole time you're sure you know there's nothing between you and dying except your own brain or guts or whatever. Like you can think straight when you know you're about a second from being murdered, or tortured, or watching your friends die. They never taught us that in their classes, what it's like to deal with things like that."

For the first time in a long time, Hermione was at a loss for words. She felt a hollowness inside of her which she couldn't explain. But as she looked up at Harry, their eyes met for a fraction of a second before she regained the ability to speak once again.

"Harry," she said timidly, "don't you see? This…this is exactly why we need you…We need to know what it's really like….facing him….facing V-Voldemort."

Her heart skipped fearfully as she uttered his name. It was the first time she'd ever said it aloud, but somehow it made her feel stronger, more in control. And as she looked back to Harry, she saw that he too had regained his composure as he sank back into his chair.

"Well…think about it," said Hermione quietly. "Please?" Harry nodded and with that she made her way to her dormitory.

As she lay in her four-poster, Hermione's thoughts were at a whirl, allowing her almost no chance of proper sleep that night. She couldn't even begin to describe how she was feeling because her emotions, like her thoughts, seemed to be jumbled and disjointed.

She soon found, however, that her mind was constantly reverting back to Harry. She had to admit, she was getting quite fed up with his angry outbursts. But…if anyone had reason to be angry it was Harry. It was still very irritating though. She always felt like she had to tread the waters carefully around him these days. Then again, if she were in his shoes, she'd probably be a nightmare as well. Not that Harry was a nightmare. Well, okay, he was a little nightmarish sometimes. But she knew he always felt guilty about it afterwards. Why did she always have to justify all of his actions? She never justified Ron's actions. _Well, that's because it's Ron, he's too thick to have his actions justified. _

_Yes, because that statement makes plenty of sense._

_Why don't you just shut up and let me sleep for once?_

_You started it. _

_Fine I'll end it!_

God, she couldn't even win an argument with her own brain.

Pitying any witch or wizard who would have to use legillimens on her chaotic mind, Hermione let the first prickles of sleep envelope her , finally, into its comforting arms.

* * *

><p>AN: Okay so first and foremost Harry's whole speech was obviously a direct quote from OOTP as well as Hermione's quote after that, but please don't sue me. This is my disclaimer. Second of all, I would loveee to thank saywhaaaat518 (I believe that's the right amount of a's) for leaving me my first review! You're awesome (obviously) and I really really reallyyyy appreciate it! So thank you again! And last but not least, I would just like to forewarn anybody who plans on actually continuing to read this story...It's going to be long. And...It's not always going to be happy...but you probably could have guessed that by now. But this story is still an innocent little baby at the moment so enjoy that while you can! I hear adolescence is a b****. But we'll get there when we get there. Soooooooooooo, once again please leave me a review pleaseeeeeeeee! Thanks :)


	5. Chapter 5

_Nothing is ever black or white. That much has always been clear. However, I must qualify this statement slightly but stating that Tom Riddle was indeed an exception. Perhaps the only exception. But this story I write is not about him. He will of course appear within these pages as he has appeared within our lives, but that chapter is but a small one compared to all those that will come after it. _

* * *

><p>A fortnight had passed since Hermione had brought up the proposition of teaching to Harry. However, she knew she had to open the subject again soon because the Hogsmeade weekend was quickly approaching. This was pathetic, she told herself. What was the big deal? It was just Harry, why should she be nervous? She would ask him again today. It would be fine. Surely she was just overreacting.<p>

"Blimey Hermione, you're not thinking of bringing that up again, are you?" Ron asked with slight alarm as Hermione told him of her plan.

Or maybe she wasn't overreacting.

"Oh don't be such a child, Ron," Hermione huffed with frustration, "he's not going to bite our heads off."

Ron looked as if that sentiment was arguable. "Well just don't bring me into it again."

" How chivalrous," she stated with an eye-roll.

" I don't like conflict!" Ron stated defensively.

Hermione tried very hard to refrain from rolling her eyes a second time but she wasn't feeling very self-disciplinary today.

"Where is Harry anyway?" Hermione asked, looking around the common room as if he were about to pop out behind a chair.

"Still asleep I think," replied Ron.

"But it's nearly noon, Harry never sleeps in this late," Hermione remarked with surprise.

"Dunno," Ron shrugged, "he's been having a lot of nightmares lately, keeps tossing and turning in his bed. Maybe he couldn't get to sleep last night."

Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment. "Has he complained to you about his scar hurting at all?" she inquired.

"Not that I remember," Ron admitted, "but you know Harry, he probably wouldn't mention it even if it did."

It was nearly half past twelve when Harry came down to the common room. Hermione noted that there were indeed dark circles beneath his eyes and his hair looked a bit messier than usual. If that was even possible.

"Morning sunshine, did you get your beauty sleep?" Ron greeted him.

He was met with a pillow to the face.

"Good morning, Harry," Hermione said, "how are you feeling?"

"Fine, why do you ask?" he replied tiredly.

"Cause you look like hell, that's why mate," interjected Ron.

"But it took me nearly all morning to pull this look off!" Harry responded with mock disbelief.

Hermione attempted once again to refrain from any eye-rolling but she was not having much success this morning. "Well breakfast is obviously over, are you hungry or can you wait till lunch?"

"But lunch isn't for another hour!" Ron responded as if it was his own stomach on the line.

Harry laughed before replying,"It's okay Ron, I'll manage. I mean what else can I do, the evil witch wants to starve me."

"Oh ha ha. Don't you dare try and pull the evil witch joke on me," Hermione said, mumbling something that sounded very much like 'muggle stereotypes'.

Later that afternoon, Hermione led the three of them to the library to work on their potions essay. (But it's not due till Wednesday," whined Ron.) Harry wasn't complaining though. He knew working on homework with Hermione always held its advantages.

"But don't either of you dare think that you're going to just copy down my answers," Hermione stated reproachfully.

Harry sighed.

An hour and half later, Hermione had dotted the last 'i' and crossed the last 't' on her essay. Looking up, however, she saw both boys in what seemed like a state of distress. Ron's quill had taken quite a beating from his teeth and Harry's hair looked as if he'd been caught in a windstorm. She forced herself not to take pity on the both of them. They had to learn to do their own work sooner or later. But she was supposed to ask Harry about teaching again today. Maybe if she just helped him a little it would butter him up a bit...But no that wasn't the responsible thing to do. She mustn't meddle with their schoolwork.

"Oh for goodness sake, give them to me!"

Harry and Ron's heads shut up instantly, identical grins plastered on their faces.

"Wipe those smiles off, I'm only proofreading," Hermione ordered. But there was the slightest upturn to her mouth as she said this.

Both boys handed over their essays and watched Hermione patiently as she set to work, scoffing repeatedly to herself.

"Ron, when would it _ever_ be okay to mix hellabore and honeywater?" Hermione asked, impatiently. "And Harry, moonstones, _moonstones_, for the love of Merlin, moon_seeds_ are poisonous!"

Harry and Ron shifted uncomfortably in their seats as Hermione continued to throw insults their way. A quarter of an hour later, however, she finally returned both rolls of parchment to their rightful owners.

"There, " she sighed, "that's as good as it's going to get."

"Thank you, Hermione, you're a bloody life saver!" Ron exclaimed, with Harry nodding his head earnestly in agreement.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

Harry and Ron began piling their quills, parchment and books in their bags, ready to leave the stuffiness of the library at last.

Hermione sat there for a moment, watching their motions."Harry," she suddenly blurted out,"Um, have you…have you thought about, well, what I said before…about teaching?" The words had just spilled out of her mouth before she even realized she had begun speaking. She knew she had to ask him sometime, she just hoped it would have been with more confidence…and coherency.

"I have," Harry replied simply.

Hermione could see Ron in the corner of her eye looking as if he were ready to duck and cover at the first signs of danger. "And…?"

"Yeah sure…I'll do it. I mean it's only you and Ron, right."

"Well, actually Harry…I think a lot of people would be interested in learning proper defensive magic, and I think it's only fair to allow them the chance as well," Hermione said, looking slightly timid.

"Well I doubt anyone would want to learn from me," Harry retorted, "I'm a nutter remember."

_Well that wasn't a 'no', _Hermione thought.

"Okay well I think we should hold a meeting next Hogsmeade weekend for anyone who is interested. Does that sound okay?" Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Sure."

"Excellent," Hermione smiled.

As the three made their way through the corridors and back to Gryffindor tower, Hermione could once again feel a strange bubble of satisfaction erupt inside of her. It was a nice sensation she had to admit.

* * *

><p>AN: So the main thing I'm working on in these earlier chapters is character development, mainly Hermione. But as time goes on I'll also focus more on Harry and Ron, and probably Ginny as well, who actually has disappeared on me for these last two or so chapters. But after all that, yes this story will have a plot. A very big one actually if it goes according to the one in my head, which I'm really hoping it does. But anyways, please do review. I would sincerely appreciate any feedback you have. Feel free to criticize it completely or tell me that this isn't worth pursuing. I would honestly not mind that because then I would know that it isn't worth pursuing! Which is very helpful for any future time I will be wasting on this. But yeah...I hate long author's notes so I'm gonna end this. Okay bye! Review!


	6. Chapter 6

_I was so oblivious. I thought I had everything figured out. I thought I knew myself, my strengths and my weaknesses, and I thought I knew the world. But I didn't. _

_However, things began to change ever so slowly, I began to change. I suppose you can call it maturity, but I hesitate to do so for that term is so often misused. You do not mature simply because you grow older. Quite the contrary, I find that sometimes people can even move backwards. _

_And I was young then. I was sixteen. I hadn't seen any of the world yet, but I believe it was then that I began to realize some things, that I began to mature._

* * *

><p><em>Dear Mum, <em>

_I'm so sorry I haven't written to you yet! How are you and Dad? I've been extremely busy these past couple of weeks as you've probably guessed already. The professors were not exaggerating when they said this year was going to be difficult! I mean, yes, third year was a little hectic. But these days I barely have time to eat my breakfast in the mornings. Which is just as well, I've been hearing rumours lately that Hogwarts actually has house elves working and cooking for all of us in the kitchens! You remember what I told you about house elves, right Mum? Those poor creatures that are enslaved by rich families and forced to do whatever they are told. They punish themselves if they disobey their 'masters'. It's completely and utterly barbaric! I'm sorry to rant here, Mum, but it's just so infuriating how everyone else just seems to accept this. I wish I could do something about it. I wish I could make people see. But it's just so hard._

_And it's not just this Mum. It's everything. It's like people don't even use their own minds to think anymore. Other people think for them. Except now, it's the government that's thinking for them. Making them believe almost anything with their outrageous propaganda. Mum, I told you how Harry saw Voldemort come back last summer. And how he had to watch a fellow classmate die in front of his own eyes. I would trust Harry with my life and I know what he says is real. So why can't the rest of the wizarding world see as well? They're making him out to be some sort of attention seeking liar. And Dumbledore too. They talk about him as if he's off his rocker. They're just putting us all in more danger than we already are. Voldemort is back. Of that much I am sure. But I'm scared Mum. This isn't just about us witches and wizards anymore. This is the whole world. I've heard stories of the first war and believe me, Voldemort will kill anyone in his path. Anyone. _

_I know this hasn't been the cheeriest of letters. But you're the only person I could talk to about this Mum. You're the only person I could tell my fears to. Harry and Ron are my best friends, but I feel I bore them enough will all of my talk. And, yes, I know what you're thinking and you're right. I'm also a little ashamed to admit to them that I'm afraid. Is that completely pathetic? Plus they're boys. That right there should be reason enough. I talk to Ginny sometimes, but I rarely get the chance to have a nice long conversation with her these days. We have different schedules, obviously, and when we do see each other it's mostly just hello and goodbye. I just need someone to talk to. _

_But I've basically written you a novel so that should hold you over until the next time I write! But before I end this I just want to let you know that even though it may seem like I'm drowning in all these problems, I am happy, Mum. So, please whatever you do, don't worry about me. I realize I've made that quite hard, but I know that you of all people will trust me when I say, I am fine. _

_I miss you already. And tell Dad I miss him too, of course. _

_Love, _

_Hermione. _

Hermione read over her letter again before signing it and putting it aside to take up to the Owlery later. She felt lighter than she had in a while, finally pouring out all her feelings onto paper. Writing to her mum always had a calming effect on her, as if she was back in her arms, safe from the rest of the world. Admittedly, she was feeling rather excited this morning. Today, they were going into the Hog's Head. It would be the very first meeting for their new Defense Against the Dark Arts club, and Hermione could not keep the smile off her face. She wasn't quite sure why, but it felt almost as if she were part of a rebellion or a secret society. Oh sure they weren't breaking any of the rules. She checked and rechecked on that to be certain. Yet, she just knew that if Umbridge were to find out, she would be furious. And that thought alone, thrilled her.

Seeing that it was finally time for breakfast, Hermione, who had already showered, dressed, and written a letter to her Mum, exited her dormitory at last. As she made her way down the spiral staircase, she spotted a black mess of hair near the fireplace. With a smile on her face, she crossed over the common room to greet Harry, whose back was facing her.

"Good morning!"

Harry jumped at the sound of her voice. "Blimey Hermione, you don't sneak up on a bloke like that," he said, trying to regain his composure.

"Sorry," Hermione laughed, looking anything but apologetic. She plopped herself down on the couch next to him and, in as civilized a manner as she could, tried again. "Good morning, Harry."

"Morning," he replied warily. "What are you so chipper about, anyway?"

"Well it's Hogsmeade today, isn't it?" Hermione said excitedly.

Harry looked at her with narrowed eyes. "And since when has that gotten you all wound up?"

"I'd hardly consider myself wound up," Hermione stated matter-of-factly. "But if you _must _know, I happen to be looking forward to our meeting today," she said in hushed tones.

"And the truth comes out," Harry grinned.

"Oh hush," Hermione retorted, "are you telling me you're not the least bit excited to be going against the best interests of our dearest professor?"

"Please don't make me vomit before breakfast," Harry stated plainly, "and as a matter of fact, yes, that prospect does excite me very much."

"Oh definitely, I can see it in your eyes. You're practically oozing excitement, please try and contain yourself before you make a mess on the floor," Hermione said sarcastically.

Harry looked up at her for a moment before chuckling softly to himself.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"Nothing," Harry said innocently.

"_What?_"

"_Nothing_."

"Harry Potter!"

"Okay okay woman, calm down!" Harry exclaimed as Hermione shoved him forcefully. "It's nothing," Harry explained, "it's just…you sounded like Fred and George there for a moment. I think they're rubbing off on you."

"What—I—no but—"

"Sorry what was that you stuttered?" Harry asked.

"They are _not _rubbing off on me," Hermione stated.

"Come on, you know you're just itching to get your hands on one of their skiving snack-boxes," Harry smirked.

"Hermione wants to get her hands where?"

Both looked up to see Ron making his way down the stairs towards them.

"Now, really!" Hermione exclaimed with impatience. But Harry had already burst out laughing, much to Hermione's displeasure.

"So where then?" Ron continued.

But Hermione had already gotten up with a loud 'humph' and started heading towards the portrait hole. "I'm going down to breakfast now, if you think you'd like to join me, then think again," she called over her shoulder.

Hermione's excitement over the Hogsmeade trip was still very palpable during breakfast that morning and remained so as the three joined the queue of students heading down to the village. When they reached Filch, however, Hermione could have sworn she saw the caretaker _sniff_ Harry.

_Well that was odd, _Hermione thought.

"Er—why was Filch sniffing you?" Ron asked uncertainly.

_Oh good, so I'm not going mental._

As they made their way down the path, Harry explained how according to Filch, he was allegedly smuggling dung bombs into Hogwarts.

"He said he was tipped off you were ordering dung bombs? But who had tipped him off?" inquired Hermione.

"I dunno," said Harry, shrugging. "Maybe Malfoy, he'd think it was a laugh."

"Malfoy?" said Hermione, very skeptically. "Well…yes…maybe…"

_No,_ thought Hermione, _that can't be it. _

However she refrained from voicing her thoughts and instead let her mind wander further as they walked along. There was just something about all of this that screamed Umbridge, but of course there was no logical proof to support that. So she let the subject go for now, smiling amusedly as she remembered Filch attempting to sniff Harry.

_Well if he did catch a whiff he would have been disappointed. Harry always smells good, _thought Hermione.

* * *

><p>AN: So instead of doing my homework today, I wrote this! Therefore, I hope you can find it in your hearts to please leave some feedback. Por favor. Did I mention I didn't study for my Spanish test? Pleasereviewthanksbye.


	7. Chapter 7

_In those days, it was like we were on top of the world. Nothing and no one could stop us. I was never one to condone rule breaking, but when the rules themselves were rubbish, I could hardly be expected to follow them, none of us could. _

_So we fashioned ourselves a bit of a rebellion. _

* * *

><p>"Where are we going anyway?" Harry asked. "The Three Broomsticks?"<p>

"Oh no," Hermione replied as they continued heading towards the outskirts of Hogsmeade, "no it's always packed and really noisy. I've told the others to meet us in the Hog's Head, that other pub, you know the one, it's not on the main road. I think it's a bit…you know…_dodgy_...but students don't normally go in there, so I don't think we'll be overheard."

After some time, the three finally reached the not so welcoming entrance to the Hog's Head. Which apparently had been rightly named, for above the door hung a battered wooden sign with a picture of a wild boar's severed head leaking blood onto the white cloth around it.

"Charming," stated Ron.

"Well, come on," said Hermione slightly nervously, hesitating to take the first step. However, Harry soon led the way inside and Hermione followed, silently thanking him in her head.

Taking in her surroundings, Hermione began to feel slightly anxious. The pub was very small, very dirty, and held a strange stench usually accompanied with petting zoos. But this was nothing in comparison to its occupants who all seemed to reflect a sort of grayness about them. Apparently it was somewhat of a fashion to keep your face hidden, for almost all of them wore hoods or veils. One witch in particular was completely veiled from head to toe.

Harry who had apparently been staring at her also, leaned into Hermione muttering, "I don't know about this. Has it occurred to you that Umbridge might be under that?"

It had very much occurred to her in fact. However, examining the witch more closely she came to the conclusion that it could not be. "Umbridge is shorter than that woman," she said quietly. "And anyway, it's not as if we're doing anything wrong. I checked and re-checked the rules and it is perfectly okay to form a student homework group. I think it's just best if we don't _parade_ it around."

"No," said Harry dryly, "especially as it's not exactly a homework group you're planning is it?"

Hermione chose to ignore this remark.

Looking down at her watch, she noted that it was almost time for people to began arriving.

"So who did you say was supposed to be meeting us?" Harry asked, taking a swig of butterbeer.

"Oh, just a couple of people."

However, fifteen minutes later, the once quiet pub was now filled with about two dozen chattering and excited teenagers.

"A couple of people?" said Harry hoarsely to Hermione, "a _couple_ of people?"

"Yes, well, the idea seemed quite popular," she replied happily. "Ron go pull up some more chairs!"

Hermione was very pleased to see that everyone she had approached about the meeting had indeed turned up, and then some. Turning back to Harry, she noticed that he looked a bit unsettled.

"What have you been telling people?" he said to her in a low voice. "What are they expecting?"

"I've told you, Harry, they just want to hear what you've got to say," she replied soothingly. "And you don't have to do anything just yet, I'll speak to them first."

As Hermione looked upon the crowd, however, she too began to feel slightly uneasy. There were some people here that she had never even talked to. Ginny had offered to pass along the word to the Ravenclaws as she was currently dating the 5th year Ravenclaw Michael Corner, and there were a couple of faces Hermione didn't even recognize. She knew one of them to be Terry Boot and another she thought might be Anthony Goldstein. And then of course there was Cho Chang, but Hermione couldn't recall the name of her curly-haired friend sitting beside her. Which was just as well. She didn't exactly look thrilled to be here.

Looking back at Harry again, she noticed that he too had been staring in the general direction of Cho and her friend. He seemed to pale slightly as Cho smiled at him and Hermione made a mental note to discuss this with him later. Harry was quite rubbish with girls to be honest.

As everyone had finally settled down, all eyes seemed to be upon Harry. Hermione took this as a cue to begin. "Er," she started , her voice slightly higher than usual, "well—er—hi."

The eyes in the room shifted towards her now. "Well…erm…well, you know why you're here. Harry here had the idea—I mean—I had the idea" she ammended for Harry had just thrown her a sharp look, "that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defense Against the Dark Arts—and I mean really study it, you know, not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us—well I thought it would be good if we took matters into our own hands."

She paused, looking sideways at Harry, hoping that he might say something. However seeing that he wasn't planning to, Hermione continued. "And by that I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just theory but the real spells because…because Lord Voldermort's back."

Several people jumped at the sound of his name. Cho's friend even shrieked, and to Hermione's great amusement, spilled butterbeer down herself.

"Where's the proof?"

Everyone turned to look at the owner of the voice. Hermione recognized the boy as a 5th year Hufflepuff.

"Well, Dumbledore believes it—" Hermione began.

"You mean Dumbledore believes _him_," the boy said, nodding at Harry.

"Who are _you_," said Ron rather rudely.

"Zacharias Smith. And I think we've got the right to know exactly what makes_ him_ say You-Know-Who's back."

Hermione was starting to get very irritated. This was exactly the sort of ignorance that was forcing them to start this group. "Look," said Hermione, "that's really not what this meeting was supposed to be about—"

"It's okay, Hermione," said Harry.

It was the first time he'd spoken since the meeting began. She looked him in the eye for a moment, and it seemed that both had come to the same realization. People wanted to hear Harry's story firsthand. That's why some, if not most of them came. She should have seen this coming.

As Zacharias continued his snide, disbelieving remarks towards Harry, Hermione suddenly felt a strong sensation of guilt well up inside of her. This was all her fault. And it didn't really help matters that Harry was casting her an angry look. But she would try to fix this.

"So," Hermione began, "like I was saying, if you want to learn some defense, then we need to work out how we're going to do it, how often we're going to meet and where we're going to—"

But she was suddenly interrupted.

"Is it true?" interjected a girl whom Hermione knew was called Susan Bones, "Can you really produce a Patronus?"

All eyes were again on Harry.

"Yeah," said Harry.

"A corporeal Patronus?"

"Yes," Harry repeated.

This set off quite some excitement among the crowd. Hermione was very pleased. They needed to know that Harry would be an excellent teacher and it seemed that they didn't need her help convincing.

"And did you kill a basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore's office?"

"In our first year he saved the Sorcerer's Stone—"

"And that's not to mention all the tasks he had to get through in the Triwizard Tournament last year."

The last remark, Hermione noted, was made by Cho. She had to roll her eyes at how pleased with himself Harry looked because of this. But of course this didn't last too long, and he once again became the self-deprecating git he usually was.

Finally after much debate over the times and places of future meetings, and after everyone (some a little reluctantly) signed their names on the parchment, the meeting was called to an end.

After everyone had left (Cho had been making quite a spectacle of fastening the catch on her bag but finally managed after seeing her friend waiting impatiently by the door), Hermione turned to the two boys in front of her.

"Well, I think that went quite well, " said Hermione happily as the three headed out into fresh air at last.

"That Zacharias bloke's a wart," said Ron irritably.

"Yes well I don't like him much either but he overheard me telling Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbot about the meeting and seemed interested. I couldn't really say no, could i?" explained Hermione. "The more people the better anyway. If it wasn't for Ginny, Michael Corner and his friends probably wouldn't have come."

"What's Ginny got to do with them?" Ron asked confusedly.

"Well Ginny and Michael are dating aren't they," replied Hermione who was currently engrossed in a shop window display of quills.

"They're WHAT?" Ron said, outraged.

"Dating, Ronald," said Hermione sarcastically, "it's when two people who fancy each other decide to—"

"But Ginny fancies Harry!" Ron exclaimed.

"No, Ginny _used_ to fancy Harry," Hermione explained calmly, "but she gave up on him ages ago. Not that she doesn't still _like_ you of course," she added kindly to Harry who looked as though he had not really been following the conversation. Hermione noticed there was somewhat of a dazed expression on his face and wondered what it was he had been previously thinking about.

However suddenly he seemed to return to the conversation. "So that's why she talks now?" he asked her, "she never used to talk in front of me."

Hermione had to smile at this. _Great perception, Harry_, she thought to herself. "Exactly," she replied to him. Then it suddenly dawned on her what Harry was looking so dazed about.

"So speaking of Ginny and Michael…what about Cho and you?" Hermione asked slyly.

"What d'you mean?" Harry asked quickly.

"Well, she just couldn't keep her _eyes_ off you, could she?" said Hermione, smiling slightly.

It took a couple of minutes for the blush to wear off Harry's face as they made their way back to the castle. Hermione had to admit, it was kind of cute.

* * *

><p>AN: Okay so I feel like this chapter is kinda sucky. And, yes, you'll probably recognize some quotes from the actual book, but it was just really hard not to add them in. And I'm sorry if you hate that. I kind of hate that sometimes when it's excessive. But anyways please leave me a review, I'd really appreciate it. Thanks!


	8. Chapter 8

_It's always amusing to look back on your younger self. You roll your eyes or shake your head and wonder, "what in the world was I thinking." I feel that way sometimes when I look back at my Hogwarts years. I was stubborn, bossy, and a complete and utter know-it-all. Of course, I can't say I've completely changed, but I would like to think that those particular aspects of my personality have greatly lessened in intensity. But back then, I was a nightmare. _

_As someone who had been picked on by their peers throughout their entire life, my self-esteem had a habit of crumbling. I found that the only thing that could build it back up, that could boost my confidence, was knowledge. I reveled in knowledge, in reading and learning. It set me apart from the others and made me different, and for the first time in my life, I didn't mind being different. And I held on to that. I held on to it, and I nourished it, and I let it grow._

_They called me the brightest witch of my age. Perhaps it was true, perhaps it wasn't. All I know is that this did wonders to my self-esteem. I began to feel confident and sure of myself, sure of my mind. Looking back, I realize I was feeling a little too sure sometimes. My head had inflated slightly to say the least. And I believe much of my bossiness and need to always be right can be attributed to this new found confidence. Mind you, I still had my fair share of insecurities, but they weren't nearly as large in comparison. _

_So, perhaps it was good thing._

_I don't know. _

_I've grown up now, though. I've grown up and I've been forced into the realization that knowledge can only get you so far. I've lost some of that youthful confidence I once had. And it's times like these when I would give anything to have it back. _

* * *

><p>"So how do <em>you<em> think she found out?"

Hermione sighed, looking up from her Charms essay. "Ginny, I've already told you. I don't know," she replied with a hint of desperation in her voice. "Like I said to Harry and Ron, it couldn't have been anyone at the meeting."

"Well, why not? Honestly Hermione, I think you put way too much faith in—

"No, it couldn't have been anyone there because I put a jinx on the parchment we signed. If there was a traitor in that meeting, trust me, we would know."

Ginny seemed slightly taken aback by this new piece of information. "Oh," she stated simply. "What sort of jinx?"

"Just believe me when I say, it would be very evident who the sneak was." And Hermione looked as if she wouldn't say any more on that subject.

"You're worried I might get ideas, aren't you?"

"Of course I am."

Ginny sighed.

"Oh, by the way, Ronald has finally found out you've begun dating," Hermione said as she rifled through the pages of her Charms book.

Ginny groaned very audibly, causing Madam Pince to throw both girls a very unpleasant look.

"Oh it wasn't that bad," Hermione stated.

Ginny stared at her.

"Okay, yes, it was pretty bad."

"Please, do enlighten me," Ginny said, propping her chin up with her hand.

"Well, it was actually my fault I suppose," Hermione began. "I mentioned how it was thanks to you that Michael and his friends came to the meeting. And Ron asked what you had to do with Michael so I told him the two of you were dating."

"And…"

"And he just about had a heart attack, I think," stated Hermione.

"What's a heart attack?" Ginny asked in confusion.

"Never mind," Hermione replied. "He just turned all red and fuming and said something about how you're too young to date."

Ginny groaned again. "That git, as if it's any of his business!"

"Oh and then he said how he thought you still fancied Harry," Hermione added.

Ginny's head shot up. "Was Harry there? What did you say?"

Hermione looked at the girl in front of her curiously for a moment. "Yes, he was there, and I said you _used_ to fancy Harry, but not anymore."

"Oh...did Harry say anything?" Ginny inquired, casually.

Hermione raised her eyebrow slightly. "Yes actually, he asked if that was why you talked around him now." Hermione could see the faintest of blushes appearing on Ginny's face. "But anyway, how's your boyfriend, Michael doing?" For reasons unknown to her at that moment, Hermione seemed to place extra emphasis on the word 'boyfriend'.

"Oh," Ginny said in mild surprise, "um…just peachy."

"Great, I'm glad to hear it."

"Yeah…listen I think I'm done here, I'm going to go head up to the common room," Ginny stated, gathering up her books and stuffing them into her bag. "I would suggest the same for you too, the OWLs are still months away, Hermione, you don't want your brain to fizzle and die out before then."

Hermione smiled. "I'll keep that in mind."

And with that Ginny left the library.

Hermione sighed. She felt weird for some reason, almost guilty. Grabbing all of her books and returning them carefully to her backpack, she got up to leave. Ginny was right, she needed a break.

There were two hours left until curfew and Hermione desperately needed some fresh air. Yes, even Hermione Granger could feel the suffocating confines of the library after many, many hours of studying.

She made her way out of the entrance hall and onto the grounds. It was dark out, but the moon was reflecting its bright light off the lake and illuminating the grounds around her. Putting her bag down, Hermione leaned up against a large tree near the lake. She hadn't been able to just sit and think in what seemed like forever.

She thought about a lot of things.

She thought about yesterday morning during History of Magic when Hedwig had appeared outside the window of the classroom with her wing injured. The letter she was carrying had been crumpled, as if forcefully intercepted by someone.

She thought about last night when she, Harry, and Ron had been talking to Sirius in the fire. And that hand. She saw that hand. Short, stubby fingers, grasping at thin air where Sirius' head had been just moments before.

She thought about the new educational decree, number twenty-four. Stating all teams, clubs, groups, etc. would be disbanded, requiring permission to regroup.

She thought about Harry being bombarded by Filch in the Owlery.

She thought about the scars embedded deep within the skin of the back of his hand.

She thought about the lies.

She thought about the interference.

It was her. It was all her. It was all them. It was Umbridge. It was Fudge. It was the _Daily Prophet._

And she suddenly felt like screaming. She felt like screaming so loud. Because nothing made sense anymore. Because this wasn't logic. And her heart was beating fast, and her face was burning up, and she wanted to scream. She wanted so desperately for things to just make sense.

Because nothing made sense.

"ARGHHH," she cried out, pounding her fist to the ground. And she cried out again, this time louder.

She was breathing heavily now as she leaned back against the tree once again. Gazing upon the lake, she slowly began to calm down. She hadn't realized how much she'd been holding in this whole time. Writing to her mum had eased some of the turmoil occurring inside her, but there was still so much left.

Squinting at her watch in the dark, Hermione saw that an hour had passed since she first walked out onto the grounds. Reaching for her bag, she took one last look at the lake before heading back to the castle.

There was still an hour left until curfew, but the corridors were quite empty. Rounding a corner, however, she heard voices. It wasn't until she entered the corridor that she recognized who the voices belonged to and immediately wished she'd taken a different route.

"Well, well, well, look who it is," said the sneering voice of Draco Malfoy. "Long time no see, Mudblood."

Malfoy was surrounded by his usual group of idiots, Hermione noticed.

"Oooh, I was wondering where that stench was coming from!" screeched Pansy, earning guffaws from Crabbe and Goyle, who were in actuality the probable sources of any stench roaming through this corridor, Hermione thought to herself.

"Move, please," Hermione stated simply.

"Oh, I do love a mudblood with manners," said Malfoy.

"And I love a Slytherin with brains," replied Hermione coolly. "It's too bad those are so hard to come by."

Malfoy's lip curled up into such a sneer, Hermione had to wonder if it pained his face at all. "You better watch what you say, Mudblood, it could get you into trouble one of these days."

"I'm terrified," Hermione stated dryly.

Pansy, who seemed to have just realized Hermione had called her stupid, narrowed her eyes menacingly. "Yeah, you had better watch out, Granger, the ugly ones are usually the first to go."

Hermione looked at her.

It felt as if something had pierced through her heart, but she bit back a retort nonetheless. "Oh? You've got statistical evidence, have you?"

Before she could hear Pansy's confused reply, however, Hermione turned around and headed back the way she came to take the long detour to Gryffindor Tower.

She felt stupid. She felt shallow. She felt weak. And she hated it.

Before she had even realized it, Hermione had made her way to the portrait of the Fat Lady, given her the password, and climbed into the common room. She didn't want to see anybody right now. All she wanted was to head straight upstairs to her dormitory and into her four poster where she could close the curtains around herself and block out the rest of the world.

She immediately spotted Harry and Ron by the window but managed to avoid them as she made her way across the common room and up the stairs.

Hermione lay in her bed sometime after that. The encounter with the Slytherins and Pansy's words still fresh in her mind.

Why? Why did she have to react this way? It was Pansy for Merlin's sake! It was Pansy dim-witted Parkinson. But as Hermione closed her eyes, countless memories flashed inside her mind, some recent and others long forgotten.

"_The ugly ones are usually the first to go."_

_The ugly ones…_

_Ugly…_

"_They called me ugly."_

"_Hey 'Mione why don't you try actually brushing your hair for once, then maybe you wouldn't look so ugly!"_

"_Stunningly pretty? _Her_? What was she judging against – a chipmunk?_"

"_They called me ugly."_

_They called me ugly. _

_Ugly…_

A single tear rolled down Hermione's face. It had been so long since she felt this way. She was a child again and she wanted to run back into her mother's arms and she wanted to cry. She was ugly. And everything bad in the world is ugly.

* * *

><p>AN: Hello! So this is gonna be nice and short. Please, please leave me some feedback. I would really appreciate ANY constructive criticism. If you don't like something please let me know so I can make it better! Any review would be greatly appreciated. And I mean that wholeheartedly. Thank you, and have a fantastic day!


	9. Chapter 9

_I cannot pinpoint exactly when it was I first began seeing Harry as more than just a friend. It wasn't as if I simply woke up one morning and suddenly fell in love with him. No, I think it was more of a gradual process. But I can remember specific moments where I really began to feel something different. Something other than friendship. It wasn't exactly attraction at first, though. It was more of a protectiveness. I had always been very protective over the people I love, but this was different. It was like I wanted Harry to be safe from people, from their words and their actions. It was like I wanted him to be safe from hurt, both physically and emotionally. I wanted to see him happy and I wanted to see him smile. I loved his smile. I think I've always loved his smile. It just took me a long time to realize why. For such a clever girl, I was pretty thick. _

* * *

><p>"What," said Harry thickly, taking a drink of his pumpkin juice. Hermione had been staring at him.<p>

"Well…it's just that Dobby's plans aren't always that safe. Don't you remember when he lost you all the bones in your arm?" _And made you miss the train, and almost got you expelled from Hogwarts_, Hermione thought.

"This room isn't just some mad idea of Dobby's; Dumbledore knows about it too, he mentioned it to me at the Yule Ball."

Hermione's expression cleared.

"Dumbledore told you about it?"

"Just in passing," said Harry, shrugging.

"Oh well, that's all right then," said Hermione briskly.

Ron rolled his eyes.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione went the rest of the day seeking people out and telling them about the meeting at eight o'clock that night. Finally at half past seven, they reached the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy. Once inside, all Hermione's doubts disappeared. It was fantastic. She immediately rushed to the book shelves where about a hundred titles sat just waiting for her to devour.

"These will be good when we're practicing stunning," said Ron enthusiastically, prodding a cushion with his foot.

Hermione turned around to face them. "And just look at all these books!" she added excitedly, running her finger along the spines of the many large leather-bound books in front of her."Harry this is wonderful, there's everything we need here!"

It was a big, spacious room and it was perfect. Hermione wondered fleetingly how the Room of Requirement could not have been mentioned in _Hogwarts, A History_, but decided it was probably best that it wasn't. The fewer the people who knew about it, the better.

Hermione, who was currently engrossed in _Jinxes for the Jinxed_, looked up at the sound of a gentle knock on the door. Ginny, Neville, Lavender, Parvati, and Dean had just arrived and were staring around in awe at the room before them.

Pretty soon eight o'clock rolled by, and every member had arrived and taken up residence on a cushion. Hermione reluctantly marked her page in the book and set it aside, looking up at Harry who was standing before them all.

"Well," said Harry, slightly nervously. "This is the place we've found for practice, and you've—er—obviously found it okay—"

_Very nicely put, Harry, _Hermione thought sarcastically.

"It's fantastic!" said Cho.

"It's bizarre," said Fred, "We once hid from Filch in here, remember, George? But it was just a broom cupboard then…"

Harry, who had just finished describing to Dean the array of dark detectors situated in a corner of the room, looked back upon everyone and cleared his throat nervously.

Hermione tried catching his eye to instill some confidence in him that he was clearly in need of at the moment, but to no avail.

"Well, I've been thinking about the sort of stuff we ought to do first and—er—what, Hermione?" he asked, for she had just raised her hand.

"I think we ought to elect a leader," said Hermione.

"Harry's leader," said Cho at once, looking at Hermione as though she were mad.

"Yes, but I think we ought to vote on it properly," said Hermione unperturbed. "It makes it formal and it gives him authority. So—everyone who thinks Harry ought to be our leader?"

Everyone, even Zacharias Smith albeit half-heartedly, raised their hands.

_There, _Hermione thought with satisfaction, _now maybe he won't feel so insecure. _

"Er—right, thanks," said Harry. "And—_what_, Hermione?"

"I also think we ought to have a name," she said brightly, her hand still in the air. "It would promote a feeling of team spirit and unity, don't you think?"

Ron threw her an exasperated look causing Hermione glared right back. Harry simply looked weary.

"Can we be the Anti-Umbridge League?" said Angelina hopefully.

"Or the Ministry of Magic are Morons Group?" suggested Fred.

"I was thinking," said Hermione, frowning at Fred, "more of a name that didin't tell everyone what we were up to, so we can refer to it safely outside meetings."

"The Defense Association?" said Cho. "The D.A. for short, so nobody knows what we're talking about?"

Hermione felt Ginny shift beside her.

"Yeah, the D.A's good," said Ginny. "Only let's make it stand for Dumbledore's Army because that's the Ministry's worst fear, isn't it?"

Ginny's suggestion was met with much approval, and Hermione pinned the piece of parchment with all their names on it to the wall, writing DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY across the top in big letters.

"Right," said Harry after Hermione had sat down again, "shall we get practicing then? I was thinking the first thing we should do is _Expelliarmus_, you know, the Disarming Charm. I know it's pretty basic but I've found it really useful—"

"Oh, _please_," said Zacharias Smith, rolling his eyes. "I don't think _Expelliarmus_ is exactly going to help us against You-Know-Who, do you?"

Out of the corner of her, Hermione could see Fred lean over and whisper something into George's ear, causing him to grin maliciously. While an act like this would normally cause her to be wary, Hermione found that she didn't particularly mind whatever prank the twins' were sure to be concocting at this very moment.

"I've used it against him," said Harry quietly. "It saved my life last June."

The rest of the room went very quiet.

"But if you think it's beneath you, you can leave," Harry said.

Smith did not move.

_That shut him up_, Hermione thought with satisfaction. _The git. _

"Okay," said Harry, "I reckon we should all divide into pairs and practice."

As instructed everyone paired up and spaced themselves around the wide room, with the exception of Neville who had, predictably, been left partnerless.

"Poor bloke," Ron stated shaking his head.

"Oh that's okay, look, he's pairing up with Harry," Hermione pointed out. "That'll be good practice for him."

"Yeah I guess," Ron shrugged. "Okay, give me your best shot."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. "Well if you insist…_Expelliarmus!" _Ron was blasted about three feet away, landing hard on the ground. Hermione who had deftly caught his wand, walked up to him and leaned down to hand it over. "Your turn?" she asked innocently.

Ron took his wand from her begrudgingly and stood up, looking around to make sure no one had seen them—

"Well done, Ronniekins!" shouted George from halfway across the room.

"Way to go down like a man!" added Fred.

"Oh, stuff it," Ron mumbled to himself, turning a bright shade of red. He turned back to face Hermione who was trying her best to hide a giggle behind her hand, but was failing miserably. "All right, let's try this again, shall we?"

And so they did, Hermione successfully blocking Ron each time. They were soon joined by Neville, as Harry had to walk around the room and observe each pair. Hermione took a moment to look around as well. Some people were doing very well, others…not so well. She noticed something very odd happening to Zacharias Smith; every time he opened his mouth to disarm Anthony Goldstein, his own wand would fly out of his hand, yet Anthony did not seem to be making a sound. She did not have to look far to find the solution to this mystery, however, for she could see Fred and George several feet away, taking it in turns to point their wands at his back.

Hermione shook her head at this but couldn't find it in her to tell them off. Turning back to Ron and Neville, she realized too late that her own wand was flying out of her hand. She looked up to see Ron grinning broadly at her.

"Your turn?" he asked, mocking her.

"Oh please, my back was practically turned!" Hermione scoffed.

"Oh, it was not!" Ron exclaimed. "Tell her, Neville!"

Neville looked between the pair nervously. "Uh…"

"Oh, never mind," Hermione huffed. "Let's just go again."

They carried on for a while, both Ron and Hermione successfully disarming Neville almost every time. Harry continued to make his rounds throughout the room, stopping here and there to fix peoples' technique.

Hermione noticed him make his way over to Cho and her friend, who were practicing some ways to the left of her, Ron, and Neville. She could just hear their conversation over the shouts of _Expelliarmus _throughout the room.

"Oh no," said Cho rather wildly as Harry approached. "_Expelliarmious! _I mean_, Expellimellius!_ I—oh, sorry, Marietta!"

Marietta's sleeve had just caught fire. She extinguished it quickly, glaring at Harry as though it was his fault. Hermione laughed softly to herself, pitying Harry who seemed to recoil under Marietta's gaze.

"You made me nervous, I was doing all right before then!" she heard Cho tell Harry ruefully.

This made Hermione irritated for some reason.

"That was quite good," said Harry, reassuringly. Hermione rolled her eyes at this. Even Cho would be able to see through that lie.

"Well, no, it was lousy, but I know you can do it properly, I was watching from over there…"

Suddenly, Hermione could feel her wand once again being stripped from her hand. Whipping her head around she saw Ron twirling it between his fingers with a smug expression on his face.

"That's two," he stated simply.

"Ugh, I wasn't even looking," Hermione mumbled to herself.

"Sorry, what was that?" Ron asked, his hand cupped over his ear.

"Nothing," she said viciously, "just give me my wand back!"

In the next round, Hermione disarmed Ron and sent him flying back onto the ground for good measure. She smiled satisfactorily to herself as Neville went to go help Ron up again.

"Blimey, Hermione," said a voice behind her, "remind me never to duel with you." Hermione turned around to see Harry grinning at her.

"He was patronizing me!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Yeah, take it easy on Ron, Hermione," said Fred who had now joined the conversation, "he's fragile."

"I am not!" said Ron indignantly, carefully getting back up on his feet with the help of Neville.

"Of course not, Ronnie, of course not," said George, appearing out of nowhere.

"Okay, okay, that's enough making fun of Ron, guys," said Harry, barely containing his laughter. "Let's get back to work."

After about ten minutes, Harry called everyone's attention. "Well, that was pretty good, but we're overrun, we'd better leave it here. Same time, same place next week?"

"Sooner!" said Dean Thomas eagerly and many people nodded in agreement.

In the end, everyone agreed to meet the following Wednesday night.

"That was really, really good, Harry," said Hermione, when finally it was just her, Harry and Ron left.

"Yeah, it was!" said Ron enthusiastically. "Did you see me disarm Hermione, Harry?"

"Only once," said Hermione, stung. "I got you loads more than you got me—"

"I did not only get you once, I got you at least three times—"

"Well if you're counting the one where you tripped over your own feet and knocked the wand out of my hand—"

And they continued arguing all the way back up the common room.

It was not until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady and Harry gave the password, that Hermione had realized he had barely said a word the whole way there.

His face held a familiar dazed expression that Hermione had noticed before.

_Oh_, she thought, _Cho._

* * *

><p>AN: Hiyah! I would adore your reviews, please and thank you :)


	10. Chapter 10

_It began as this miniscule seed of emotion buried deep inside of me. But slowly this seed was beginning to sprout. Every time he laughed, every time he smiled, every time he yelled and he screamed, I felt this seed growing. Perhaps one day, it would consume me entirely. _

* * *

><p>Hermione awoke in the morning feeling slightly apprehensive. Today was the day Hagrid was going to be observed by Umbridge and the odds were simply not in his favour. Umbridge had already sacked Trelawney, and while she loathed Umbridge with every fiber of her being, Hermione had to secretly agree with her just this once.<p>

The thought made her feel dirty.

Sighing to herself, Hermione drew the curtains open around her four poster, got out of bed, and trudged off to the bathroom to wash her herself of all thoughts of coalition with the toad. She smiled slightly despite of herself. Hermione was never one to call people names, but she supposed there was a first for everything.

Upon seeing her reflection in the bathroom mirror, however, the smile was soon wiped off her face. Her hair seemed to have reached a new level of bushiness this morning, and she was simply not in the mood for it.

She stepped into the shower, wondering vaguely what it would be like to have the silky smooth hair that her shampoo bottle advertised. Then she remembered how much she hated false advertisement. Then she got annoyed.

After showering and dressing, Hermione climbed through the portrait hole and headed down to breakfast, feeling that same air of annoyance hovering over her like a cloud.

She was surprised to find Harry and Ron already in the Great Hall.

"Morning," she greeted, half-heartedly, throwing her bag on the ground and taking her place at the Gryffindor table.

Harry looked up from his toast with surprise. "Good morning," he replied, "Did you sleep in? You're later than usual."

"Am I?" she asked with confusion.

Harry held out his watch for her to see. Grabbing his wrist a litter rougher than she intended, Hermione squinted to check the time. She was indeed a quarter of an hour later than she usually was. Letting go of his arm, she shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't know, I guess I lost track of time in the shower."

"Happens to the best of us," said Harry, shaking off his wrist with a slightly pained expression.

Ron looked up swiftly from his eggs with a scandalized look on his face as if the subject of Hermione in the shower should not be discussed at the breakfast table.

"Today just isn't my day," she declared.

"It's not even eight o'clock yet!" exclaimed Ron.

"Well I can feel it already."

"And since when have you ever gone off feelings?" Harry replied with a half smile.

"Well there you go then! That proves my point exactly."

Ron looked at her with a confused expression but seemed to decide it was better not to dwell on the subject.

"Well I'm just hoping you're wrong about this feeling of yours, Hermione. The last thing we need is bad omens while Umbridge is observing Hagrid today," Harry replied.

"Oh don't you dare suggest I would ever believe in those silly things," Hermione said.

"What about Harry's Grim in third year?" Ron replied through a mouthful of food.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Ronald. Don't be thick," Hermione said impatiently. "That big black dog Harry was seeing was _Sirius_ not the Grim," she whispered furiously to him.

"I know, I know," Ron said, lifting his hands up in surrender. "But what about the one in his tea leaves, and in the sky during that Quidditch match," he said, looking over at Harry for support.

"Oh _please_," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes. "Weren't you the one who said that reading tea leaves was all a bunch of rubbish anyway? And I'm sure if we go outside right now I can point you to a cloud shaped like a dog and we can call it the Grim."

"And anyway," Hermione added as an afterthought. "I thought the Grim was supposed to be an omen of _death_. The last time I checked, Harry was very much alive. Am I mistaken?" She looked over at Harry as if waiting for him to prove he was alive, then turned to Ron with a look of satisfaction.

"Okay you proved yourself right, as always, are you happy?" Ron said grumpily.

"I'm just stating the facts, Ron," she said, buttering her toast matter-of-factly.

The rest of breakfast, Ron could be seen periodically throwing Hermione dirty looks.

All too soon, however, they were heading down the snowy grounds to Hagrid's hut for their Care of Magical Creatures lesson. Yet when they reached, Umbridge was nowhere to be seen. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and looked over to Harry and Ron to see that they too had noticed her absence.

Hagrid was waiting for the class by the edge of the forest which could only mean that whatever dangerous creature they were to study today would be hidden in there.

"We're workin' in here today!" Hagrid called happily to the approaching students, "Bit more sheltered! Anyway they prefer the dark…"

"He _is_ joking, isn't he?" cried Pansy Parkinson from somewhere behind her. "We can't go in there!"

Hermione smiled to herself. Anything that caused Pansy discomfort couldn't be all that bad.

"Now what we're studyin' today is pretty rare, I reckon I'm probably the on'y person in Britain who's managed ter train 'em—"

"And you're sure they're trained, are you?" said Malfoy. "Only it wouldn't be the first time you'd brought wild stuff to class, would it?"

A very, very small part of Hermione had to silently agree with Malfoy's words. And just like this morning, she felt dirty. She made a mental note to shower again tonight.

"'Course they're trained," said Hagrid, scowling. "Now if yeh've finished askin' stupid questions, follow me!"

Hagrid turned and strode straight into the forest leaving the class standing quite stationary behind him. Harry glanced at her and Ron and she sighed, nodding her head. The three of them set off to follow Hagrid into the forest, leading the rest of the class.

After about ten minutes, they reached their destination.

"Gather roun', gather roun'," said Hagrid encouragingly. "Now they'll be attracted by the smell o' the meat but I'm goin' ter give 'em a call anyway, 'cause they'll like ter know it's me…"

Hagrid gave an odd, shrieking cry that echoed through the forest. A minute passed and he gave another cry. And then again a third time. But still, nothing appeared to happen.

Hermione saw her same confused expression mirrored on the faces of her classmates. Most people seemed to be looking around, waiting for the unknown creatures to appear. Then she saw Harry nudge Ron and point into the empty darkness.

She looked at him curiously. It was almost as if he saw something. But no, there was nothing there to see. Hermione looked around her, searching but finding nothing. Then she glanced back again at Harry. There was something in his eyes, something like…relief?

"Why doesn't Hagrid call it again?" Ron whispered by her side.

Giving a slight gasp, Hermione watched as the cow carcass Hagrid had been carrying was now being stripped of its flesh by what seemed to be invisible mouths. Invisible…

"Oh an' here comes another one!" said Hagrid proudly, staring into what seemed like nothingness. "Now…put yer hands up, who can see 'em?"

Hermione watched as Harry raised his hand. Looking around she saw that both Neville and a Slytherin boy had their hands raised as well.

"Yeah…yeah, I knew you'd be able ter, Harry," he said seriously. "An' you too Neville, eh? An'—"

"Excuse me," said Malfoy with a sneering voice, "but what exactly are we supposed to be seeing?"

As an answer, Hagrid simply pointed to the cow carcass being devoured on the ground. Several people gasped and Parvati even shrieked.

"What's doing it?" Parvati demanded in a terrified voice.

Suddenly, something clicked inside Hermione's head.

"Thestrals," said Hagrid proudly.

_Thestrals. Of course!_ Hermione thought.

"Now who can tell me why some o' you can see them an' some can't?" asked Hagrid.

Hermione raised her hand slowly.

"Go on then," said Hagrid, beaming at her.

"The only people who can see thestrals," she said, "are people who have seen death."

"Tha's exactly right," said Hagrid solemnly, "ten points Gryffindor. Now, thestrals—"

"_Hem, hem."_

Hermione inwardly cringed as if by reflex. Professor Umbridge had arrived. And very quickly everything began to go downhill.

Umbridge began taking all of Hagrid's words and actions and twisting them into a complete bundle of absurdity. Hermione wanted nothing more than to take the clipboard in Umbridge's hands and use it to knock the sickening smile off her face.

And as if that wasn't enough, she was acting as if Hagrid could not understand English, as if he was not even human.

And Hermione's insides burned with fury and there was a lump in her throat that she could not swallow and there were tears in her eyes that were threatening to spill over.

"You hag, you evil hag!" she whispered fiercely, as Umbridge walked towards Pansy Parkinson.

"Well, Hagrid," she turned to look up at him again, speaking in that loud, slow voice, "I think I've got enough to be getting along with...You will receive"—she mimed taking something from the air in front of her—"the results of your inspection"—she pointed at the clipboard—"in ten day's time." She held up ten stubby little fingers, then, her smile wider and more toadlike than ever before, she bustled from their midst, leaving Hermione actually shaking with fury.

"That foul, lying, twisting old gargoyle!" stormed Hermione half an hour later, as they made their way back up to the castle. "You see what she's up to? It's her thing about half-breeds all over again—she's trying to make out Hagrid to be some kind of dim-witted troll, just because he had a giantess for a mother—and oh, it's not fair, that really wasn't a bad lesson at all. Thestrals are fine—in fact, for Hagrid, they're really good!"

"Umbridge said they were dangerous," said Ron.

"Well it's like Hagrid said, they can look after themselves," said Hermione impatiently, "But, they _are _very interesting, aren't they? The way some people can see them and some can't! I wish I could."

"Do you?" Harry asked her quietly.

Hermione stopped in her tracks, horrorstruck. She felt as if a ton of bricks had just been dropped into her stomach. She looked into Harry's eyes, at a loss for words.

"Oh Harry—I'm sorry—no , of course I don't—that was a really stupid thing to say—"

"It's okay," he said quickly, "don't worry…"

But for the rest of the walk up to the castle, she remained silent, glancing at Harry now and then when he wasn't looking.

He was only fifteen years old. And he'd seen another human being, a classmate, a friend, murdered before his own eyes. Yet here he was, standing beside them. Harry, just Harry.

And she wondered if she would ever see the thestrals. She wondered if she would ever have to watch someone die or watch someone murdered. And as a silent tear rolled down her face, she wished with all her heart that she wouldn't.

* * *

><p>AN: Anybody else find the the Hunger Games reference? ;) Sorry I couldn't help it. But anyways um I wanted to make this chapter a lot longer but I'm just going to make the next part that I was going to include its own chapter. Please tell me what you think. Did you like it...did you hate it...? This one was kinda meh for me. If it was meh for you too I would love to hear it! Okay unecessarily long author's note is now finished. #review


	11. Chapter 11

_Back then, we were buried under all the fear and the terror and the pain of the war. Yet despite all of that, we were still just children. Sometimes even I forget that. When you look back at those times from far away, all you see is darkness. But as you come closer, you can spot rays of light stubbornly penetrating through. Those rays of light were what kept us going. They were happiness, laughter, friendship, and love. And above all, they were things that made life worth living. We may have had the world literally on our shoulders, but we were never fully submerged into darkness. _

* * *

><p>"Well, how did it go?"<p>

Ginny, breathless and flushed, had just joined Hermione at the dinner table.

"I made it, I'm the new Gryffindor seeker," Ginny replied with a small smile.

She seemed exhausted, cold, and hungry, but there was definitely one emotion lacking in her features. Hermione looked at her curiously. "I thought you'd be through the roof. You love Quidditch!"

"I do, of course I do! It's just..I don't know…I suppose I feel a bit guilty taking Harry's spot," Ginny said with a shrug, half-heartedly filling her plate with potatoes.

"Well would you rather the team forfeit every match? I know Harry wouldn't. Don't be silly," Hermione said sternly, "the team needs you."

"I know, I know. I just hope he doesn't resent me, is all," Ginny admitted.

Hermione scoffed. "Ginny, you know Harry is much more mature than that. And besides, since when have you cared so much about what he thinks, anyway?"

"Um, since the first day I met him, I believe," Ginny replied dryly.

"Oh come on, Ginny," Hermione said in disbelief. Then lowering her voice to a whisper, "I thought you were over him!"

"I am," Ginny whispered back, "but just because I don't fancy someone doesn't mean I don't care what they think."

"Oh, so you care what _he_ thinks," Hermione inquired, pointing to a random Hufflepuff passing by.

"No, because I don't _know_ him," Ginny retorted, apologizing to the boy, for he was looking oddly at the pair of them. "What are you trying to get at, anyway? Are you suggesting that I still like Harry?"

"Well I don't know…sorry, I was just curious," Hermione said.

"Well curiosity is going to murder your cat," Ginny stated plainly.

Hermione sighed. "It's: 'Curiosity killed the—

"Whatever! The point is…I don't like him, okay?" Ginny paused, looking down at her plate. "Not anymore." Her tone had a finality to it that Hermione had rarely ever heard, but knew was a signal to let the subject go.

They both sat there for a while after that, lost in their own thoughts and eating their dinner in silence. Hermione knew that there was more to the subject than what Ginny was letting on, but of course, she didn't dare mention anything more. There was just something about Ginny's entire demeanor, however, which was very odd. She seemed almost...ashamed.

After dinner, Hermione and Ginny headed up to the Room of Requirement for the last D.A. meeting before the holidays. Together with Ron and Neville, who they met up with along the way, the four of them made their way to the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy.

People began quickly filling into the room after them and at seven o'clock, everyone was situated on a cushion. Harry had been calling everyone's attention when Hermione suddenly heard Parvati and Lavendar giggling about something behind her. She was just about to turn around to tell them to be quiet when she saw the source of their laughter. Buried behind the box of cushions was a forgotten golden bauble, showing a picture of Harry's face and bearing the legend HAVE A VERY HARRY CHRISTMAS! Hermione had to fight back the urge to giggle herself. There could be only one culprit here. She smiled, imagining Dobby decorating the room with hundreds of similar baubles. Not for the first time Hermione deeply regretted being too busy with her prefect duties and schoolwork to knit elf hats. Those poor elves she hadn't set free yet…having to stay over during Christmas because there weren't enough hats!

She sighed to herself, pushing that thought out of her head for the moment and trying to focus on Harry who had just begun speaking. However she was once again disrupted by the sounds of giggling behind her.

"Hey Cho!" Hermione heard Lavendar whisper. "Fancy an early Christmas present?" Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione could see Lavendar pass the Harry-bauble over to Cho, who upon seeing it, starting blushing madly. "Of course, it's not as good as the real thing!" Lavendar winked.

Hermione rolled her eyes, clicking her tongue impatiently. "Why don't you quiet down so we could actually hear the real thing?" she stated bluntly.

Parvati and Lavendar, looking slightly embarassed at having been overheard, instantly quieted down. Cho, on the other hand, looked as if she was blushing even harder than before.

"…because it's the last meeting before the holidays and there's no point starting something new right before a three-week break—"

"We're not doing anything new?" said Zacharias Smith, in a disgruntled whisper loud enough to carry through the room. "If I'd known that, I wouldn't have come..."

"We're all really sorry Harry didn't tell you, then," said Fred loudly.

Several people sniggered, and Hermione had to smile appreciatively, herself. Smith was a git, after all.

After Harry was done speaking, they all split up into pairs as usual, with Neville being left partnerless…as usual. They began by working on the Impediment Jinx, Ron and Hermione freezing and unfreezing each other without keeping track of how many times the other had been successful. They had both come to a consensus after the first D.A. meeting to put their over competitive natures aside for the sake of their education. As Hermione affirmed, it was more important to learn proper technique than to see who could best blast the other to opposite ends of the room.

Althought secretly, she'd been keeping a very steady count in her head.

After about ten minutes, they moved on to Stunning. As there wasn't enough room for everyone to practice at once, half the group practiced the spell while the other half observed. Hermione couldn't believe how well everyone had been improving. Even Neville had successfully Stunned Padma Patil. Of course…he had been aiming at Dean, but it was a much closer miss than usual!

Harry had really proved himself a superb teacher. And as Hermione looked over at him, she felt herself swelling with pride. He was their leader, no matter how much he thought otherwise.

As they reached the end of the hour, Harry called a halt. "You're getting really good," he said, beaming around at them. "When we get back from the holidays we can start doing some of the big stuff—maybe even Patronuses."

There was a murmur of excitement. Hermione, herself, was immensely excited to start work on Patronuses. After the events of her third year by the lake, she swore she would learn to defend herself against Dementors. She didn't think she would ever be able to forget that feeling of a hundred Dementors closing in on her, suffocating her. And Harry yelling out and pleading for her to help him. To help him save both their lives.

But she was too weak. And just like always, Harry had to save the day. Harry had to be strong enough for the both of them.

But she swore she would never be weak again.

The room was nearly empty now. Hermione and Ron were helping Harry collect up the cushions and stack them neatly away. Looking around to see if she had missed any, Hermione spotted Cho in the middle of the room and the pair made very awkward eye contact. No longer feeling very comfortable, Hermione motioned for Ron to follow her out, assuming that Cho wanted some privacy for whatever it was she was about to do. She just sincerely hoped for Harry's sake that Cho would not burst into tears in front of him and a little for Cho's sake as well since she didn't foresee Harry being the overly comforting type.

Exiting the Room of Requirement, Hermione and Ron made their way back up to Gryffindor Tower. Once they were through the portrait hole, Ron immediately slung himself onto the nearest couch by the fire scaring away some second years who had their eyes on the couch as well.

"Ron!" Hermione said sternly, "for once in your life try not being so territorial."

"They're second years," Ron retorted, "they shouldn't even be up so late."

"It's 8:30, Ron," Hermione said exasperatedly.

He merely shrugged, laying back on the couch with his hands behind his head.

Hermione reached into her bag to retrieve the letter she received by owl this morning. Her and Viktor had been keeping touch since last year, periodically sending letters to each other. In truth, she always found it a slightly difficult task. There was only so much you could say to a person who you'd only known for a year and hadn't seen for six months. Yet Viktor always managed to write her very lengthly and detailed letters. In return, she felt obligated to do the same.

"Hermione, it's the bloody last day before the end of term," Ron spoke up suddenly, "what homework could you possibly be working on?"

"I'm not working on homework, Ronald, I'm writing a letter," she responded.

"To who?"

"To _whom_."

"Huh?"

"Nevermind," Hermione stated. "And I'm writing to Viktor, if you_ must_ know."

An unpleasant look fell over Ron's features, but before he could get a word out, Hermione quickly interrupted him.

"And I don't want to hear about how much you dislike him. Merlin knows we've all heard it enough."

"Well...good! Cause...he's dislikable!" Ron uttered with indignation.

"I shudder to imagine what he thinks of you, then," Hermione said airily.

He threw her a nasty look which she chose to ignore.

Moments later, Ron sighed, looking bored."Well, what's keeping Harry?" he inquired. "Everything was put away before we left."

Hermione merely shrugged, figuring it was best to let Harry share just what exactly had kept him when he returned. Whenever that was…

It had been at least fifteen minutes.

Ron was slowly dozing off and Hermione was just about to suggest he go upstairs to bed when the portrait hole opened to reveal Harry.

"What kept you?" Ron asked, sitting up, as Harry sank into the armchair next to Hermione's.

Harry did not answer.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Hermione asked, peering at him over the tip of her quill. He had a shocked expression plastered on his face.

Harry gave a halfhearted shrug.

"What's up?" said Ron, "What happened?"

Getting slightly impatient, Hermione jumped straight to the point. "Is it Cho?" she asked in a business-like way. "Did she corner you after the meeting?" _Okay, maybe 'corner' is a bit harsh…but that is what she did!_ Hermione thought to herself.

Looking surprised, Harry nodded. Ron sniggered, breaking off when Hermione caught his eye.

"So—er—what did she want?" Ron asked in a mock casual voice.

"She—" Harry began, rather hoarsely; he cleared his throat and tried again. "She—er—"

"Did you kiss?" asked Hermione briskly, once again not finding the patience to endure his stuttering.

Ron sat up so fast that he sent an ink bottle flying all over the rug. Disregarding this completely he stared avidly at Harry.

"Well?" he demanded.

Harry looked from Ron to her. And then, he nodded.

And all of a sudden, Hermione felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She didn't know why or where it came from, but it was there. She felt it.

All of a sudden Ron's raucous peals of laughter caused her extreme irritation and digust.

All of a sudden the grin on Harry's face that she usually loved to see, was now making her feel an emptiness inside that she'd never felt before.

"Well?" Ron said finally, looking up at Harry. "How was it?"

Harry considered for a moment.

"Wet," he said truthfully.

Ron made a noise that might have indicated jubilation or disgust, it was hard to tell.

"Because she was crying," Harry continued heavily.

Hermione looked up from her letter.

"Oh," said Ron, his smile fading slightly. "Are you that bad at kissing?"

"Dunno," said Harry. "Maybe I am."

"Of course you're not," said Hermione absently.

"How do you know?" said Ron in a sharp voice.

"Because Cho spends half her time crying these days," said Hermione vaguely. She was hoping that Harry wouldn't have to witness it. Cedric's death was no easier on him than it was on Cho. So why couldn't Cho see that?

"You'd think a bit of kissing would cheer her up," said Ron, grinning.

"Ron," said Hermione in a dignified voice, "you are the most insensitive wart I have ever had the misfortune to meet."

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Ron indignantly. "What sort of person cries while someone's kissing them?"

"Yeah," said Harry, slightly desperately, "who does?"

She looked at Harry. He was hardly better than Ron at the moment, so she forced herself into Cho's shoes and began to explain the myriad of emotions Cho was feeling.

Hermione did genuinely feel some pity for her. Losing someone so close must have been truly heart breaking. But while letting out one's emotions was healthy, Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that Cho had picked exactly the wrong person to whom she should let her emotions out to.

Harry was kind, compassionate, and loving. Hermione knew that. But right now, she didn't think he could handle someone bringing him down any further. Life was not easy for him at the moment, and she didn't think it would be easy for him for a while.

Deciding she could no longer write any more in her letter, Hermione wished the boys goodnight and set off up the girl's staircase. However, she lay wide awake in her four poster some time after that, her mind rushing with immeasurable thoughts.

In the end, however, all her thoughts led back to one feeling. That illogical feeling of emptiness. And it just didn't make sense.

She knew what that sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach was _supposed_ to mean. She wasn't stupid. Yet, how could that be so? Could she really be...jealous?

* * *

><p>AN: Hi there! I would just like to thank those of you who have reviewed this story. I got an awesome review last chapter that was really very helpful so please keep them coming! I appreciate any feedback. Feel free to be as critical as you want because it only helps me in the end! Thanks a bunch. REVIEW!


	12. Chapter 12

_It's not exactly a secret that I have always loved reading books. I was the easy person to shop for on holidays. Just give me a book and I'm sure we could be great friends. I was pretty good at it too, reading I mean. When you read as much as I did, you begin to find patterns and links in everything. You begin to see the world through a pair of reading glasses, and you find plot lines and characters and you find meaning. But even greater than that, I believe, was my growing ability to be able to read, not only books, but people. Yes, I could read people. The more I knew you, the more I could think the way you think and feel the way you feel. It was by no means an easy thing to do. People are like books, you know, some are more complicated than others. But, it's the complicated ones that teach you the most about life. And in my life, Harry was the most complicated book I ever had to read. _

* * *

><p>Hermione awoke the next morning feeling more tired than usual. It was the last day of term and for the first time she didn't think she would miss the castle all that much over the holidays. Any escape from Umbridge was a welcome one.<p>

As she got in the shower, she began imagining situations she would rather be in than having to be stuck in a room with Umbridge. She stood there under the hot water for longer than usual contemplating each one. _Eat a box filled with puke-flavored Bertie Bott's Beans, become a beater on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, have a girls' night with Pansy Parkinson, babysit Grawp, climb the Whomping Willow, have tea with a Death Eater…_

She paused briefly on the last one, but decided in the end that having tea with Umbridge would probably be worse. After all, what was the worst thing a Death Eater could do? Kill her? Well, hopefully it would be a quick death.

"I think I'm going mad," Hermione muttered to herself, stepping out of the shower at last. She did a quick drying spell on her hair and exited the bathroom, much to the pleasure of Lavender who had been waiting quite impatiently outside the door. Grabbing her book bag, Hermione headed down into the Common Room to wait for Harry and Ron.

At the thought of Harry, Hermione's stomach suddenly felt slightly uneasy.

She thought back to last night, shaking her head and laughing to herself. _I'm not jealous of Cho. What nonsense! This is Harry we are talking about, Harry. As in Harry Potter? The specky git with glasses? Okay, okay he's not a git. Well…he has been acting git-like a lot these days. But that's not the point. The point is, I'm not jealous of Cho. _

Hermione seemed satisfied with this conclusion. Looking at her watch, she wondered what was taking the boys so long anyway. Deciding that they must have already gone down to breakfast, she made her way out the portrait hole and down to the Great Jall. However, upon reaching the Gryffindor table she could spot neither Harry nor Ron.

Slowly sitting down, she looked around her once more. _Where could they be? Were they really still asleep? _

As breakfast was nearing an end, Hermione began feeling worried. Neville, Dean, or Seamus would have surely woken Harry and Ron if they had still been asleep. Spotting Neville farther down the table, she got up and made her way over to him to ask if he'd seen them. Before reaching him, however, she was intercepted by Colin Creevey.

"Hermione!" he called.

Turning around Hermione saw Colin running up to her. "Yes, Colin?"

"Um, I'm supposed to give you this" he said, handing over a rolled up parchment.

"Oh…okay, thank you," she replied, looking at the parchment uncertainly.

Grabbing her bag, she exited the Great Hall, feeling even more worried than before. Sitting down on the staircase, she carefully unrolled the parchment.

_Miss Granger, _

_Please come to my office after breakfast._

_Professor Dumbledore_

She felt a jolt in the pit of her stomach. Something was wrong. She just knew it.

She ran to the Headmaster's office, deciding that at this moment it was okay to break the 'no running in the corridors' rule. And of course, it had to be all the way on the seventh floor. She was getting a stitch in her chest by the time she came to a halt outside the statue of a gargoyle that held the spiral staircase leading to the Headmaster's office behind it. Panicking, she realized she didn't know the password. She unrolled the parchment to see if she had missed anything and noticed a postscript that read:

_I enjoy acid pops. _

"Acid pops?"she said aloud.

Suddenly, the door opened to reveal the spiral staircase. Shaking her head in disbelief, Hermione quickly made her way up the staircase. She knocked lightly upon the door despite her pounding heartbeat.

"Come in," said a soft, muffled voice.

Opening the door, Hermione saw Professor Dumbledore at his desk looking older than she had ever seen him before.

"Ah, Miss Granger, have a seat," Dumbledore said, pointing to an empty chair in front of his desk.

Hermione sat down obediently. "Professor! Did something happen to Harry and Ron?" she blurted out, unable to remain calm much longer.

"Harry and Ron are safe," he replied.

Hermione let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding.

"However, Arthur Weasley was attacked last night while on duty at the Ministry."

"WHAT?" Hermione said, standing up and almost knocking over her chair.

"However," he said again, this time louder, "he is _also_ safe now. They've taken him to St. Mungo's hospital where they expect him to make a full recovery."

Hermione sat down again feeling utterly bewildered. She still had so many questions. "How was he attacked, Sir?"

"He was attacked by Voldemort's snake, Nagini," Dumbledore said.

Hermione gasped, covering her mouth with both hands.

"Mr. Potter witnessed the attack through a vision. If he had not notified me, Arthur Weasley would surely have been dead by now," Dumbledore continued in a grave voice.

Hermione was in complete shock. "Harry had a vision?" she inquired. "What sort of vision?"

Dumbledore, however, ignored Hermione's inquiries and told her that she was to go to all of her classes today so as not to raise suspicion from Umbridge. She would be able to go to Grimmauld Place after term officially ended.

"Now, I understand you were planning on going home for the holidays—

"It's fine! I'll tell my parents I need to study for my OWLs over break. They'll understand," Hermione stated, in a rushed voice.

Dumbledore smiled gently. "While I do not usually condone lying, I believe in this circumstance a small white lie will not hurt anyone."

"Thank you, Professor," she said, smiling back.

"I will arrange a portkey for you. Come to my office after your last class today," he stated.

Hermione nodded her head and made her way to leave. Before reaching the door handle, however, Dumbledore stopped her.

"Miss Granger?"

"Yes, Professor?" she said, turning around.

"I know I don't have to ask this of you, but…" He sighed, looking down for a moment. "I'm worried that Harry is taking the blame for what happened. Please…do try and talk some sense into him. If not...then simply comfort him. After all, his burdens are greater than most men can bear."

Hermione looked into Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes and saw them glistening.

"Of course, Professor," she said gently. "Of course."

And with that, she left, a million different thoughts swirling inside her head. She might as well have not attended any of her classes today, for she could not focus on a single one. She thought about Harry and what Dumbledore had said to her. She thought about Ron and the Weasleys and how much pain they must have gone through. She thought about Harry's vision and what it could mean. She thought about her own parents and how much she missed them. But she would have to wait until summer to see them because she needed to be there for Ron and his family. And she needed to be there for Harry.

Harry.

Her heart ached for Harry. She just wanted to hug him and tell him everything was going to be okay. But she also wanted to smack him across the head for being so stupid to believe that any of this was his fault.

She just needed to see him. And of course today had to be the longest day of her life.

After Charms was finally over, Hermione rushed back to the Common Room and into her dormitory to grab her stuff. Her trunk was already gone so she picked up a few books, stuffed them in her bag, and made her way to Dumbledore's office.

She was just about to knock on his office door when she heard a soft, "Come in, Miss Granger."

"Do you have everything?" he asked.

"My trunk, Sir—

"Is already there."

Hermione nodded.

Dumbledore pulled out an old black kettle from his desk. "You've used a portkey before, I presume?"

"Yes, professor."

"Good. On the count of three then…one…two…three."

Hermione felt the familiar tug around her navel as her feet left the ground and her finger became glued to the kettle. There was a rush of colours and wind and all at once her feet collided hard with the ground.

"Ow…" she said softly, straightening herself up. She was just outside the door to Grimmauld Place and without thinking she rang the doorbell, regretting it instantly as Mrs. Black's screams could be heard from where she was standing outside. There was a scuffle of feet behind the door. A pause. And then suddenly it flew open to reveal a rare sight: Sirius with a ridiculous smile plastered on his face.

"AH, HERMIONE!" he practically yelled, pushing her inside and into a one-armed hug. "So nice of you to join us this Christmas!"

Nearly suffocating, Hermione extracted herself from him with great difficulty. "Thank you for having me, Sirius," she said, breathing freely again.

"My pleasure," Sirius said, flashing her a brilliant smile. "Your stuff is all upstairs, make yourself at home!"

And with that, he left, singing carols and putting up decorations all around the house. Hermione shook her head, bemused by his actions. She made her way upstairs to the room she had shared with Ginny over the summer and found her trunk waiting for her by the foot of her bed. She removed her cloak, scarf, gloves, and hat, and took off in search of the other inhabitants of the house.

She knocked on Harry and Ron's door first.

She could hear someone running to the door, and it was instantly swung open to reveal Ron.

"Oh…it's you," he said in a defeated tone.

"It's great to see you too, Ronald," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes.

"Don't be offended, Hermione, we were just hoping it was Harry," Ginny said. "He's locked himself up with Buckbeak since we got home from the hospital last night."

"Why?" Hermione inquired, taking a seat on one of the beds.

Ron and Ginny looked at each other.

"Oh come off it, just tell me!" Hermione stated impatiently. "I'm going to find out eventually."

Ginny sighed. "Well, when we were visiting Dad, we overheard him talking to Moody, Lupin, and Tonks using the extendable ears."

"And…?"

"And…Moody said that Harry may have been possessed by You-Know-Who," Ginny finished softly.

Hermione took a sharp intake of breath. "Oh, Harry…"

"He didn't say anything the whole ride back, and he's gone and locked himself upstairs and refuses to come down," Ginny continued.

"But, Ginny…you were possessed by You-Know-Who, too," Hermione said carefully.

"I know, but he seems to have forgotten that fact," she retorted, shaking her head and looking away.

"He just has a lot on his mind right now, Gin," Ron said comfortingly. "We need to bring him down here so we could know for sure."

Hermione nodded. "I'll get him down. He's been wallowing in self-pity long enough."

And with that, she climbed up the stairs all the way to Buckbeak's living quarters and hammered hard on the door.

"I know you're in there," said Hermione. "Will you please come out? I want to talk to you."

She was just about to knock furiously again when the door was pulled open and she came face to face with Harry, himself.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Harry asked her, "I thought you were skiing with your mum and dad."

"Well to tell the truth, skiing's not _really_ my thing," said Hermione. "So I've come for Christmas. But don't tell Ron that, I told him it's really good because he kept laughing so much. Anyway, Mum and Dad are a bit disappointed, but I've told them that everyone who's serious about the exams is staying at Hogwarts to study. They want me to do well, they'll understand. Anyway," she said briskly, "let's go to your bedroom, Ron's mum's lit a fire in there and she's sent up sandwiches."

Hermione led the way downstairs and was pleased to find that Harry was following. When they entered the room, she took a seat next to Ginny and the two girls and Ron looked up at Harry.

"How're you feeling?" asked Hermione.

"Fine," said Harry stiffly.

Hermione was fighting extremely hard not to roll her eyes at the moment. "Oh don't lie, Harry," she said impatiently. "Ron and Ginny say you've been hiding from everyone since you got back from St. Mungo's."

"They do, do they?" said Harry, glaring at Ron and Ginny. Ron looked down at his feet but Ginny seemed quite unabashed.

"Well, you have!" she said. "And you won't look at any of us!"

"It's you lot who won't look at me!" said Harry angrily.

"Maybe you're taking it in turns to look and keep missing each other," suggested Hermione, the corners of her mouth twitching.

"Very funny," snapped Harry, turning away.

"Oh, stop feeling all misunderstood," said Hermione sharply. "Look, the others have told me what you overheard last night on the Extendable Ears—"

"Yeah?" growled Harry, his hands deep in his pockets as he watched the snow now falling thickly outside. "All been talking about me, have you? Well, I'm getting used to it…"

_Why does he insist on being an insufferable git?_

"We wanted to talk _to you_, Harry," said Ginny, "but as you've been hiding ever since we got back—"

"I didn't want anyone to talk to me," said Harry.

"Well that was a bit stupid of you," said Ginny angrily, "seeing as you don't know anyone but me who's been possessed by You-Know-Who, and I can tell you how it feels."

Harry remained quite still as the impact of these words hit him. Then he wheeled around.

"I forgot," he said.

"Lucky you," said Ginny coolly.

"I'm sorry," said Harry, and he sounded like he truly meant it. "So…do you think I'm being possessed, then?"

Everyone turned to look at Ginny.

"Well, can you remember everything you've been doing?" Ginny asked. "Are there big blank periods where you don't know what you've been up to?"

Harry paused for a moment, his forehead creased in thought.

"No," he finally said.

"Then You-Know-Who hasn't ever possessed you," said Ginny simply. "When he did it to me, I couldn't remember what I'd been doing for hours at a time. I'd find myself somewhere and not know how I got there. "

Hermione let out a breath she had been holding and she could see from Harry's face that a large weight had been lifted off him.

"See Harry, all you had to do was talk to us about it," said Hermione softly, touching his arm.

Harry looked down at her hand from where he standing and seemed to stare absently at it for a moment.

"Yeah mate, I don't care if you _were_ possessed by You-Know-Who, we wouldn't just abandon you," added Ron. Hermione and Ginny nodded their heads in agreement.

Hermione, realizing her hand was still on Harry's arm, quickly removed it. She cleared her throat quietly, looking anywhere but at Harry.

"I know…I was just being thick I guess," said Harry.

"You guess?" said Ron and Ginny in unison.

Harry grinned, punching Ron lightly in the arm. "Watch it, Weasleys."

"Come on let's eat, I'm starved," said Ron.

"When aren't you, Ron?" replied Ginny.

"Hermione, you hungry?" said Ron stuffing half a sandwich completely in his mouth, with Ginny looking at him with disgust.

"Yeah…yeah I am pretty hungry," Hermione admitted, taking a seat on the ground between Harry and Ron.

"Ron, try not to choke and die," said Harry leaning across Hermione to grab a sandwich.

As he leaned over, Hermione instantly caught a whiff of a clean, soapy scent that was very pleasing to her nostrils.

_Oh Merlin…am I going mad? Why does he have to smell so clean and fresh all the bloody time? And since when do I use the word 'bloody'? Oh goodness…if Mum ever heard me…He's just a specky git!_

And with that, Hermione ate her sandwich in peace, ignoring any funny feelings in the pit of her stomach that arose as Harry's leg brushed against hers.

* * *

><p>AN: Okayyyy so, I am finally done with my freshman year of college. Woot! THEREFORE, it won't take me ten years to update anymore. But do you know what would be an amazing end-of-freshman-year gift? A REVIEW. Pleaseandthankyou.


	13. Chapter 13

_Before I started Hogwarts, my life was about as simple and boring as any other eleven year old, English middle class little girl. My parents were dentists. My biggest thrill was reading a new book. And my best friend was my cat (who died later that year). Discovering that I was a witch changed many things in my life. However, I don't think it was magic alone that turned my entire world upside down. Because I observed many Hogwarts students leading equally simple and boring lives as the one I had led before. But I can tell you when my world first started moving in a whole new direction. You see, I was in a lavatory crying my eyes out when all of a sudden a troll staggered in...and, well, you can imagine my surprise..._

* * *

><p>The start of term seemed to fall upon everyone much too soon. They had just arrived at Hogwarts by Knight Bus, and Hermione could not recall ever feeling so unenthusiastic to return. And as she sat with Harry and Ron in the common room later that night, she could tell she was not alone.<p>

Ron was slouched in his chair, mindlessly flipping through a Quidditch magazine. He had just finished recounting a rather unpleasant experience he shared with an elderly witch on the Knight Bus. ("As if I fancied having her cane up my—bless you," he said to Harry who had just sneezed.)

Harry had his head resting on one of his hands, his glasses going slightly askew and looking quite dejected. His upcoming Occlumency lessons with Snape gave him more reason than anyone to feel especially miserable about returning to school.

He sighed to himself just then as if hearing Hermione's thoughts.

"Harry, maybe it won't be so bad…" Hermione started rather unconvincingly.

He looked at her, unconvinced.

"I mean…Snape can't be any worse to you than he usually is, right?" she continued.

"Is that supposed to comfort me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, maybe he'll be a bit nicer! You know…because this is so important…he'll want to make sure you do well…" she finished lamely.

Ron snorted. "Yeah and I'm the Minister for Magic…" he said quietly, flipping a page in his magazine.

Hermione gave him a look, and then turned back to Harry.

"Okay," she said dropping her pretense, "it's most likely going to be terrible, Snape is going to be the same foul, unpleasant person he usually is, and you're probably going to hate it. But Harry, please…just remember that this is _really_ important. If you can learn to block Voldemort from your mind, you'll protect not only yourself, but so many others as well."

Harry turned his head away from her for a moment. She could see him grit his teeth. "I know, Hermione…okay? I know," he said, but she was relieved to find that it wasn't in the same harsh tone he had taken to using with them recently.

"Good," she said. She knew Harry was the type to dwell on unpleasant things so she quickly tried to change the subject. "So…erm…how's Cho doing?"

Harry looked up as if he wasn't sure who she was speaking to. "Dunno," he replied, "I haven't talked to her."

"Oh…" Hermione looked around somewhat awkwardly, not knowing what else to add. However, she was saved by Ron.

"Are you two like…together now?" Ron asked.

Hermione quickly looked up at Harry.

"Dunno…" he said again. "We didn't really talk about that."

"Yeah, too busy snogging, eh?" Ron asked, wagging his eyebrows.

Hermione gave him a look of disgust.

"I'd hardly call it snogging," Harry chuckled.

Ron yawned and got up out of his chair. "Ah well, mate, there's plenty of time for that," he said, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "Well, I'm heading up to bed now. See you two tomorrow."

"G'night," Harry replied.

"I should be heading up, too," said Hermione after Ron left.

Harry looked up at her then nodded. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah I'm fine," Hermione said with surprise. "Why?"

He shrugged. "You just looked a little bothered by something," he replied.

"Did I?" she asked.

"Yeah, you had on that troubled look you get whenever you're trying to figure out the answer to a difficult question," Harry said.

"What troubled look?" Hermione inquired somewhat defensively.

"The same one you have on right now," Harry replied, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.

Hermione brought her hand to her face as if trying to feel the look she currently had on. Then realizing what she was doing she got up and scoffed at Harry. "Maybe I'm just trying to figure out why I'm still sitting here talking to you when I said I was heading up to bed."

"Maybe," said Harry, laughing.

Hermione shook her head, smiling slightly despite herself. "Goodnight, Harry," she said with emphasis, making her way to the staircase.

"Sweet dreams," he called after her.

And with that she made her way to the dormitory. It wasn't very late yet and when she entered the room she found Lavender and Parvati still awake, telling each other in agonizing detail all that had occurred during their winter holiday.

She was hoping to slip into her pyjamas and into bed unnoticed but unfortunately she wasn't successful.

"Hermione!" Lavender called, moving to the edge of her bed. "Is it true what we heard?"

"What is it that you heard, Lavender?" Hermione asked wearily.

"About Ron's dad getting attacked!" she replied. "Seamus heard from Lee Jordan on the train. And Lee is really close friends with the Weasley twins so we figured it must be true but—"

"Yes, it's true," Hermione stated abruptly, wanting to end the conversation.

Both girls gasped.

"How could something like that happen?" Parvati asked with a stunned expression.

Hermione really did not wish to go into detail with her dorm mates. Seeing as it was a matter of the Order, she couldn't divulge much information, anyway. "They're not sure," she stated, "but he's recovered almost completely now."

Lavender and Parvati still looked shocked, but they were able to grasp that Hermione did not wish to elaborate more on the subject. She bid them both goodnight and closed the curtains around her four-poster, and listened as both girls returned to their discussion of the winter holidays.

As Hermione lay there in her bed, she wondered briefly what it would be like if she had never become friends with Harry and Ron. Would she have perhaps made friends with Lavender and Parvati instead? Would she be sitting with them now recounting all the details of her ski trip with her parents?

She contemplated this parallel universe for a long while. Life, she decided, would be so much simpler. All she would have to worry about would be her classes and her homework and people and gossip. Yes, she would hate Umbridge and maybe she would be in the DA (assuming it would still be around) but everything would be so completely different. She would be completely different.

And the more she thought about it, the more she thanked the heavens that she had become friends with Harry and Ron. Sure they'd been through more dangerous things than most Hogwarts students combined, and yes she would probably always have to worry over Harry. But she wouldn't trade it for anything. They were in this together and she would stand by Harry's side through it all. Those two wouldn't last a day without her, anyway, she thought smiling to herself.

Closing her eyes for the night, Hermione continued imagining her parallel universe self until she finally drifted off to sleep.

* * *

><p>The next morning at breakfast people were continually approaching Harry to ask whether there would be a DA meeting that night. However, Hermione wished that they could stop because one, it was a little suspicious having members of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw frequently walking over to the Gryffindor table and two, because Harry's mood seemed to be sinking lower and lower each time he had to explain that the meeting would have to be postponed because he had to go to Remedial Potions that night.<p>

"As if it's not bad enough that I have to take extra lessons with Snape…now everyone's going to think I'm some sort of dim-witted idiot," Harry said.

"That's a bit harsh, Harry," Hermione placated.

"Yeah mate, don't worry. No one even said anything about it when you told them," Ron added.

As if on cue, Zacharias Smith appeared out of nowhere cornering Harry in the entrance hall.

"You take _Remedial Potions?_" asked Smith superciliously. "Good Lord, you must be terrible, Snape doesn't usually give extra lessons, does he?"

As Smith strode away in an annoyingly buoyant fashion, Ron glared after him.

"Shall I jinx him? I can still get him from here," he said, raising his wand and taking aim between Smith's shoulder blades.

Lowering Ron's arm, Hermione looked to see Harry appearing quite dismal. She was just about to offer some words of comfort when she saw Cho approaching hesitantly behind him.

"Hi, Harry," she said.

Harry turned around to find Cho standing there. "Oh…hi," he replied.

Hermione watched as the two stood there for a moment, smiling at each other. Feeling increasingly uncomfortable and knowing they would want to be left alone, she seized Ron above the elbow and dragged him off toward the marble staircase. "We'll be in the library, Harry," she said firmly, knowing that he was too engrossed to even hear her.

Hermione could just hear Cho asking about Harry's Christmas when she and Ron reached the top of the landing. Letting go of his arm, the two walked towards the library.

"What did you do that for?" Ron asked, rubbing his elbow tenderly.

"Well, they obviously wanted some privacy," Hermione replied matter-of-factly.

"You don't know that. And anyways, you didn't have to harass me," he retorted.

"Oh, please I barely touched you," she scoffed.

"Well I bruise easily."

"Well that's not my problem."

They both glared at each other and continued their fuming walk to the library in silence.

Once they reached their destination, however, they were once again back on civil terms.

"Have you started using the homework planner I got you for Christmas yet?" Hermione asked eagerly, taking out her own and opening it up to the current day.

"_Study, study, study for that test today, and tomorrow you can rest away!"_ chanted the book as Hermione scribbled down some reminders.

She looked up at Ron when he didn't answer and saw him shift uncomfortably in his chair.

"Well…you see…the thing is," Ron said, scratching away at the table distractedly, "I might have…left it at Grimmauld Place."

He said the last part very quietly but Hermione heard him nonetheless.

"Ron!" Hermione scolded, "I put a lot of thought and effort into that gift! Please tell me you didn't do it on purpose."

His head was down but Hermione could clearly see his ears turning a bright shade of red.

"You did, didn't you!" she said.

"I'm sorry Hermione!" Ron said almost pleadingly. "Fred and George were taking the mickey out of me for it."

"Ron, _when_ are you going to stop caring about what those two say to you," she asked.

Ron shrugged, still not looking her in the eyes. "I don't," he said half-heartedly.

"Well good," Hermione said, not believing him, "because you shouldn't."

"But it's not like you would have used it anyway," she added as an afterthought, the corner of her mouth upturned ever so slightly.

Ron chuckled. "Me and Harry were actually planning on chucking them in a bin somewhere where you couldn't find them," he admitted.

"Well then!" she said, crossing her arms in a huff. "If either of you think I will be helping you with your homework in the future then you are _much_ mistaken."

Ron winced slightly.

"And it's 'Harry and I'!" she added nastily.

"Harry and who?" said none other than Harry who had just entered the library, positively beaming.

Hermione and Ron looked up in surprise.

"_You_ look cheerful," said Ron leaning back in his chair on two legs and surveying Harry.

"Do I?" said Harry, taking the seat next to Hermione, a smile still plastered on his face.

Hermione recognized that smile, that flush in his cheeks, that bounce to his step. "What did Cho want, then?" she asked casually.

"Who?" replied Harry, turning his face from them and bending down to his bag to retrieve his books.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Cho," she repeated clearly.

"Oh, her," Harry said smiling slightly to himself before turning back to face them again. "Um...nothing."

"Well, I'd hate to see what it would look like if it was something," Ron chuckled.

"It's no big deal," Harry shrugged, not looking either of them in the eye, "I just asked her if she wanted to come into Hogsmeade with me."

"You WHAT?" shouted Ron, the front legs of his chair slamming back onto the ground.

"Shh!" hissed Madam Pince from around the corner.

Ron apologized then turned immediately back on Harry.

"Well? Did she say yes?" Ron demanded.

Hermione looked at Harry, biting her lip, knowing the answer yet waiting for it to be confirmed.

And then Harry nodded.

"Bloody hell..." Ron said to himself, shaking his head and grinning. "Well done, mate. Well done!"

Harry grinned as well, muttering a shy 'thanks' in return.

All of a sudden, Hermione's face felt warm and she wanted nothing more than to leave the suffocating library. There seemed to be a weight inside her stomach that was travelling slowly upwards until it reached the back of her throat and made it painful to swallow. She was breathing slowly through her nose, not allowing it to overcome her. Whatever 'it' was.

She turned her attention back to the conversation at hand, forcing a smile upon her face.

"How did you even do it?" Ron asked with awe in his voice.

Harry shrugged. "She actually sort of brought it up," he admitted. "She mentioned that there was a Hogsmeade trip coming up—"

"On Valentine's Day," Hermione interjected.

"Yeah, that one," said Harry. "And at first I had no clue why she brought it up. But just as she was about to leave I guess it kind of clicked into place and...I dunno...I just asked her."

"Girls," Ron said shaking his head. "Why can't they just say what's on their bloody minds?"

"Exactly!" cried Harry.

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment and then turned to the both of them. "Well she couldn't just come out and say, 'Harry, ask me out'. And it's not like she could ask _you _out. She knew that you were probably too shy to initiate without knowing for sure whether she would even want to go on a date with you, so she figured she would bring up the topic in hopes that you would realize that she _would _in fact want to. Luckily you realized it just in time; otherwise you both would have to wait until _you _plucked up enough courage to actually ask her out. And Merlin knows how long that would have taken by which time Cho would have probably given up and moved on."

Harry and Ron merely gaped at her.

"What?" Hermione said forcefully, daring them to speak.

Ron simply shook his head while Harry sat there rubbing his temples as if suffering from a painful headache.

Hermione sighed. "Come on, we should start heading to class," she said, picking up her bag.

Both boys stood up obediently, but Hermione could clearly hear the words "girls" and "mental" in between Ron's mumbles.

Hermione went through the rest of her classes that afternoon in somewhat of a stupor. Try as she might, she simply could not concentrate. Her mind kept continuously reverting back to Harry and the conversation earlier that day.

She had to admit that at first she was quite surprised when he announced that he had asked Cho out. Yes, she knew that he fancied Cho, but she had never expected Harry to make the first move. But after some thought she realized that he didn't, really...Cho was the one who always sought _him_ out, Cho kissed _him_ under the mistletoe, Cho brought up the Hogsmeade trip to _him_. And she might as well have just asked him out herself at the rate she was going!

Hearing shuffling around her, Hermione realized that class had just ended, and she had spent a large portion of it lost in her musings of Cho being a man-chaser.

_Oops..._

"Hermione!" Ron gasped.

"What?" she asked startled.

"You only took half a page of notes!" Ron said in shock.

Harry dropped his bag and swiftly ducked passed Ron to see if it were true. The two of them then looked up at Hermione wearing identical expressions of astonishment.

"Erm..." Hermione said, not looking at either of them. She was an awful liar, but she couldn't very well explain to them what had been occupying her mind for the last forty-five minutes. "I'm not feeling well."

She saw concern flash in Harry's eyes and instantly felt horrible.

"What's wrong? Do you want to go to the hospital wing?" he asked.

"NO."

Both boys looked at her in confusion.

"I mean...no...I feel better now...really," she said trying her best to sound convincing.

"If it's your stomach, I felt a little queasy myself earlier," said Ron, "I _knew _the porridge tasted a little funny..."

"Yes, that's probably it!" Hermione stated, grabbing her bag and leading them out of the now empty classroom.

"But you didn't have porridge this morning, Hermione," Harry said.

_Oh shoot._

"Yes I did..."

"No, you didn't."

"_Yes_, I did."

"_No_, you didn't."

"I could have sworn I did."

"Well you didn't."

"I—"

"Actually, now that I think of it, Hermione, Harry's right, you didn't," interjected Ron.

"NEITHER DID YOU!" Hermione snapped.

There was a pause.

"She's right, Ron...you didn't," Harry said, turning to Ron in confusion.

Hermione groaned loudly before spinning around on her heel and heading straight for the common room.

_That was certainly a close call_, she thought to herself as she took a seat in the common room.

Harry and Ron joined her soon after, already deep in discussion about the upcoming Quidditch match between Hufflepuff and Slytherin. They barely even stopped to catch their breaths until finally Ron's stomach growled, signalling that it was time to head down to dinner.

As they made their way to the Great Hall, Hermione could sense Harry reverting back to his dejected mood from last night and earlier this morning. He had an hour before his Occlumency lessons began and with each passing minute, the dread written on his face was becoming more and more pronounced.

Finally, it was time for Harry to head down to Snape's office in the dungeons.

He sighed gloomily and pushed his half-eaten plate aside.

"You'll be okay, Harry," Hermione said, trying to convince not only him, but herself as well.

He nodded wordlessly.

"Good luck, mate," said Ron.

"We'll be in the library when you're done," added Hermione.

He merely nodded again and then headed out of the Great Hall.

"Poor bloke," said Ron shaking his head.

Hermione sighed. "Come on. Let's head up to the library."

"But I've already been in there once today," Ron groaned. "I don't know how you stand it, Hermione."

"Oh don't be such a baby," Hermione scoffed. "_Don't let your work stack up in piles; it'll only go on for miles and miles!"_

Ron stared at her with one eyebrow raised."Was that from your bloody planner?"

"No, I made that one up!" Hermione said excitedly. "It was good though, wasn't it?"

"It was terrible."

Hermione didn't speak to him for the next half hour.

At around half past eight, Harry finally arrived and sat down opposite Ron and Hermione. She was slightly startled by his appearance. He was very white, and his scar seemed to be showing up more clearly than usual.

"How did it go?" she whispered. "Are you all right, Harry?"

"Yeah...fine...I dunno," said Harry impatiently, wincing slightly as if a pain had suddenly shot through him. "Listen...I've just realized something..."

And so he told them all that he had just seen and deduced. That the so called 'weapon' that Sirius had mentioned so long ago was hidden in the Ministry of Magic, itself. In the Department of Mysteries.

They continued discussing this newfound information for some time when Harry suddenly ran both his hands hard over his forehead as though trying to iron it.

"Harry, are you sure you're all right?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"Yeah...fine..." he said, lowering his hands, which Hermione could see were trembling. "I just feel a bit...I don't like Occlumency much..."

"I expect anyone would feel shaky if they'd had their mind attacked over and over again," said Hermione sympathetically. "Look, let's go back to the common room, we'll be a bit more comfortable there."

However when they returned, they found the common room packed and full of shrieks of laughter and excitement as Fred and George were demonstrating their latest bit of joke shop merchandise.

Headless Hats, they were called. Rather ingenious really, Hermione had to admit. Once the person put on the hat their whole head would become invisible.

"How do those hats work, then?" Hermione pondered to herself, too distracted to focus on her homework.

"I'm going to have to do this tomorrow," Harry muttered suddenly, pushing his books he had just taken out of his bag back inside it.

"Well, write it in your homework planner then!" said Hermione encouragingly. "So you don't forget!"

Hermione saw Harry and Ron exchange a look as Harry reached into his bag, withdrew the planner and opened it tentatively.

_Well, at least he had the decency to keep it in his bag_, Hermione thought to herself, rolling her eyes.

"I think I'll go to bed," said Harry, stuffing the homework planner back into his bag after he finished scribbling down Umbridge's homework.

Hermione noticed that he still looked quite shaky and pale. It didn't look like he would be successful in keeping up his defences tonight. Not with Snape having fiddled with his mind so much...

"Ron...maybe you should go check on Harry," she said. "He didn't look very well..."

Ron nodded and headed up to the boy's dormitory only to return about half an hour later looking quite anxious.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Hermione asked, her tone full of worry.

"It's Harry..." Ron began. "When I went up there he was on the floor...and he was thrashing around and..."

"And what?" Hermione asked fearfully.

"And laughing," stated Ron. "He was laughing and it was scary. It was like he was having a nightmare though. So I tried shaking him awake. But when he finally came to, he yelled out like he was in a lot of pain. It looked like his scar was really hurting him. And then he said..."

"What? What did he say?" Hermione prodded.

"He said that You-Know-Who was really happy about something...the happiest he's ever been since Harry can remember..."

The two sat there for a moment in silence, each absorbed in their own thoughts.

"Do you think he's right, Hermione?" Ron asked apprehensively.

"I...I don't know," she replied. "Ron...Harry's not supposed to see or feel these things. That's what his Occlumency lessons are for."

"But Hermione—"

"No 'buts' Ron," she said. "We weren't supposed to know where the weapon was hidden. Harry has the Department of Mysteries basically mapped out in his head and he _shouldn't_. This isn't about us being too young to know. It's for our protection, for Harry's protection."

"But why?" Ron asked almost desperately.

Hermione paused before answering. "I don't know, Ron," she replied. "But that's what Dumbledore thinks is best."

Ron didn't seem satisfied with this answer, and if Hermione was being completely honest with herself, neither was she.

Why were these things happening to Harry? Why all of a sudden? Sure he'd had visions last year, but now they seemed to be occurring daily. It just didn't make sense and she hated when things didn't make sense. But above all she was worried about Harry. How much more of this could he handle, she wondered. How much more until he finally broke?

_Oh, Harry..._

* * *

><p>AN: Well I'm not sure why but this chapter took several writing sessions to complete. But hey, it's the longest yet so woo! There's nothing much else to say except a quick shout out to my fav reviewer Wanderinglands who actually motivated me to keep working on this chapter so yay! I hope you like it!


	14. Chapter 14

_Do you know what it's like to believe something your entire life...and then have that belief stripped away from you in one instant? It changes everything. For me...it changed the way I thought. It changed the way I lived. It changed the way I saw things, not just about myself but about the things around me as well._

_I don't know why. _

_I don't know why it affected me the way it did. _

_I wish I knew. _

* * *

><p>Smoothing out her copy of the <em>Daily Prophet<em> that very next morning, Hermione gave a sudden yelp that caused everyone in the vicinity to stare at her. As her eyes roamed over the front page of the newspaper, she felt her heartbeat quicken dangerously as she read the headline:

**MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN**

**MINISTRY FEARS BLACK IS "RALLYING POINT"**

**FOR OLD DEATH EATERS**

"What?" said Harry and Ron together.

Wordlessly, she spread the newspaper on the table in front of them and pointed at the black-and-white photographs of the ten Death Eaters who had broken out Azkaban.

Ten.

How had _ten _prisoners escaped from Azkaban? It was a miracle that Sirius had escaped and he was _innocent_.

_The Dementors must have switched allegiance..._

"Of course..." she whispered to herself, but neither Harry nor Ron heard her as they were both still engrossed in reading the article.

Her mind seemed to be working a mile a minute as her gaze fell back upon the paper.

_The Dementors have switched allegiance. They've joined Voldemort...Yet the Ministry is laying the blame on—_

"I don't believe this," snarled Harry, "Fudge is blaming the breakout on _Sirius_?"

Hermione glanced up at him. "What other choice does he have?" she said bitterly. "He can hardly say, 'Sorry everyone, Dumbledore warned me this might happen, the Azkaban guards have joined Lord Voldemort and now Voldemort's worst supporters have broken out too.' I mean he's spent a good six months telling everyone you and Dumbledore are liars, hasn't he?"

Hermione felt a renewed sense of fury towards Fudge and the entire Ministry in general.

_They haven't given a plausible explanation. People won't believe this! There's a hole and we can fill it. We can fill it with the truth...but how?_

Hermione stared, transfixed at the door of the Great Hall, looking but not really seeing, as she searched through the workings of her mind for an answer. She vaguely saw the doors open to reveal a dreamy-looking Luna walking backwards towards the Ravenclaw table, holding a copy of _The Quibbler_.

And suddenly it hit her.

She leapt to her feet, pulling the newspaper back towards her.

"Where are you going?" said Ron, startled.

"To send a letter," said Hermione, swinging her bag onto her shoulder. "It...well I don't know whether...but it's worth trying...and I'm the only one who can..."

"I _hate_ it when she does that," she heard Ron grumble as she practically jogged out of the Great Hall and up to the Owlery.

When she finally reached, out of breath and a little concerned over her lack of stamina, she pulled out a piece of parchment, quill, and ink, and sat down to write her letter.

She hesitated, not knowing exactly what to say. This would be rather difficult considering she couldn't reveal practically anything since the post was still being watched.

It was four crumpled letters later when she held the final copy in her hands. It read:

_Dear Ms. Skeeter, _

_I feel our last interaction during the Triwizard Tournament was cut much too short. I was hoping that we could meet sometime in Hogsmeade because I have a couple of questions that I know you, as a professional journalist, would probably be able to answer. I understand that your schedule may be hectic and I would hate to __**bug**_ _you with something as trivial as this, but how about it then? Our next trip is the 14__th__ of February. Let me know if you can make it!_

_Yours Truly, _

_Hermione Granger_

Hermione read it over one last time. It seemed innocent enough, she decided. But she hoped that Skeeter would be able to read between the lines for which the letter would actually say: _Meet me in Hogsmeade or I spill your secret. _

But she would just have to wait and see.

In the meantime she knew she had to ask Luna as well. Hermione was fairly confident that neither Luna nor her father would raise an objection to her idea. After all, they did support Harry and Dumbledore.

So after a DA meeting about two weeks before the Hogsmeade trip, Hermione asked Luna if she could have a quick word.

"Of course," Luna replied vaguely.

Hermione waited until everyone was out of the Room of Requirement before turning back to face her.

"Luna," she started, "I was wondering if you could do me a favour."

Luna gazed at Hermione. "I could," she said earnestly, her eyes growing slightly bigger. "But whether I will or not depends entirely on what you ask of me."

"Right," Hermione said, smiling politely. And she decided to get straight to the point. "Do you think your father would be up to publishing an interview with Harry in _The Quibbler_?"

Luna's eyebrows rose slightly. "Oh yes of course! Daddy's actually been wanting to interview Harry for a long time about that Dementor attack during the summer. You see, he believes they weren't really Dementors at all, but rather hooded Ministry Officials that have been trained by Fudge to—"

"Actually Luna," Hermione interrupted quickly, "I already have someone to interview Harry."

"Oh," Luna replied unperturbed.

"But do you think your Dad would be able to publish the article?" Hermione asked. "It's going to be Harry's account of what happened last June."

"Oh, that does sound interesting," Luna said, "But I'll have to check with Daddy. He might be a little upset about having to push back the Aquavirius Maggot story he was going to be publishing for the next issue."

Hermione stared at her.

"Right," she said again, "well please do ask him, then. This story will be rather important considering recent events."

Luna nodded her head enthusiastically. "I'll go write him now!"

"Wait, Luna!" Hermione called as Luna began skipping towards the door.

"Yes, Hermione?" she replied.

"In your letter...make sure you don't say what the article will be about...the post is still being watched, you see," Hermione said.

"Of course," Luna said dreamily.

"Good, and thanks by the way. I'm sure your dad won't regret it," Hermione said.

"He won't," Luna stated simply, eyebrows raised once again.

Hermione nodded her head and watched as Luna left the room.

Now all she had to do was wait for Rita Skeeter's reply.

And wait she did.

It was the morning of Valentine's Day. Luna had received the 'ok' from her dad but Hermione had yet to hear back from Skeeter. She had been growing more and more anxious by the day.

Taking a seat at the Gryffindor table for breakfast, she noticed Harry looking quite anxious himself. He was barely eating anything and he seemed to be incessantly trying to flatten his hair, to no avail of course.

Hermione looked at him oddly as she took a swig of her orange juice and then almost choked on it as she realized the source of his strange behaviour.

Today was his first date with Cho.

With all her concern about Rita Skeeter and the interview she had completely forgotten about Harry's date. Which was today. Which would mean even if she were to finally receive a reply at this very moment, Harry would be busy anyway...

As if on cue, an unfamiliar brown owl suddenly swooped down in front of Hermione.

"And about time! If it hadn't come today..." she said eagerly, tearing open the envelope and pulling out a small piece of parchment which she saw only had four words written on it:

_Three Broomsticks at noon._

Hermione smiled in grim satisfaction. Then she remembered Harry. She hadn't even asked _him_...Surely he wouldn't be upset?

"Listen, Harry," she said, looking up at him. "This is really important...Do you think you could meet me in the Three Broomsticks around midday?"

"Well...I dunno," said Harry dubiously. "Cho might be expecting me to spend the whole day with her. We never said what we were going to do."

Hermione suddenly felt a strong dislike for the girl. She knew she shouldn't and that Harry and Cho had every right to spend the whole day together in Hogsmeade. Yet, she couldn't help but feel irritated.

"Well, bring her along if you must," said Hermione urgently. "But will you come?"

"Well...all right, but why?"

Hermione felt slightly guilty for not telling Harry in the first place but she would apologize later.

"I haven't got time to tell you now, I've got to answer this quickly—"

And with that she hurried out of the Great Hall, the letter clutched in one hand and a piece of uneaten toast in the other.

Practically running into the entrance hall, Hermione spotted Luna making her way down the marble staircase.

"Luna!" she called, waving her toast frantically in the air as she made her way through the mass of students.

"Ooh, is that a type of signal?" Luna asked as they met each other on the stairs. "Wait, let me try and decipher it..."

"Luna," Hermione said quickly, ignoring her, "could you meet me today in the Three Broomsticks around noon for the article?"

Luna's eyes widened. "I could."

"But_ will_ you?" Hermione clarified.

Luna regarded Hermione with a look of approval. "Oh yes! Nobody's ever asked me to meet them in Hogsmeade before," she added with wonder.

"Well there's a first for everything," Hermione replied briskly. "I'll see you then!"

And with that, Hermione rushed up the many staircases and corridors to the Owlery.

Grabbing a piece of parchment, she hastily scribbled down a 'See you there' and attached the note to a brown barn owl near her. "Make sure it gets to Rita Skeeter," she told the owl.

It hooted in reply and then set off through the Owlery windows.

Hermione leaned back against the wall breathing deeply and blowing a piece of hair from her face. She looked at her watch. It was half-past ten at the moment.

As she made her way out of the Owlery and through the castle, she didn't much feel like going into Hogsmeade just yet. Ron was at Quidditch practice and Harry was on his date. And she'd never been to Hogsmeade with anyone besides those two. It made her feel quite lonely to be honest.

Nevertheless, Hermione trudged all the way back up to the common room and into her dormitory to grab her coat, scarf, and hat. Perhaps she would run into someone in one of the shops, she decided.

Hermione had almost forgotten it was Valentine's Day but as soon as she entered the village it wasn't easy to forget. Many of the shop windows were decked out in red and pink. One shop in particular appeared almost nauseatingly festive with banners and hearts plastered all over the entrance.

"Madam Puddifoot's..." Hermione read the shop name to herself with immediate distaste.

She watched as a young couple entered the tea shop, their fingers interlaced, both staring at each other with sparkling eyes as if no one else in the world was around them.

Hermione snorted.

They'd probably end their relationship within the next few months. They'd have their hearts broken. They'd be depressed. Then someone new would enter their lives and they'd fall for them thinking for sure that things would be different this time around. But then, the cycle would just repeat itself. Again and again. Until one day, they would be too afraid to lend their hearts out to anyone anymore.

She thought about this as she sat on a bench, feeling the cold wind whip across her face. It wasn't that she didn't believe in love. She did. But the process that most people took to fall in love, she thought, was all wrong.

Love wasn't simply about romantic feelings and attraction. It was so much more than that. She would never dream of starting a relationship solely on that basis. Love was about knowing a person more than you knew yourself. Trusting them and understanding them. Being their friend. Their companion. Their soul mate.

That's what she wanted, anyway. But whether she would ever get it was another matter entirely.

Hermione exhaled slowly, watching the cold air escape from her mouth. She didn't know why she was feeling especially grim at the moment. But watching the many couples entering and exiting Madam Puddifoot's didn't seem to help.

She looked down at her watch and saw that it was nearly eleven. Seeking some warmth, she decided to head to the Three Broomsticks early.

She stood up from the bench and with one last pensive look at the tea shop behind her, she headed down the road.

The door tinkled as Hermione entered the noisy pub and she headed for a table near the back where it was less congested.

"Can I get you anything, dear?" asked Madam Rosmerta who had made her way over to Hermione.

"Um, one butterbeer please," she replied.

Rosmerta nodded and then left to take more orders.

Hermione looked around the pub. She wasn't expecting either Luna or Rita Skeeter to be there yet, but she scanned the crowd nonetheless.

Harry probably wouldn't be here for a while either, she thought.

She wondered what he was up to at the moment. Hermione smiled to herself as she remembered him attempting to flatten his hair this morning.

She felt bad for neglecting him these past couple of weeks. She should have at least given him some tips for his date. Merlin knows he needed as much help with girls as he could get. She just hoped he wouldn't botch it completely. He had no reason to, really. He was sweet and charming and a proper gentleman.

But then again...Cho was quite an emotional handful.

Hermione winced slightly as she imagined a weepy Cho flinging her arms around Harry for support.

But no, they were going to have a splendid time. Both of them would come into the Three Broomsticks beaming, with their fingers interlaced and sparkling eyes only for each other. Just like that couple she had seen outside Madam Puddifoot's.

But something inside Hermione's stomach twisted in discomfort and she was left to wonder why this image seemed even less appealing than a weepy Cho.

But she chose to ignore it.

The same way she chose to ignore many similar feelings for the past several weeks.

Hermione had been sitting that for some time when she heard the door of the pub open and turned to see Luna enter, standing there with her head shifted slightly sideways as she surveyed her surroundings.

"Luna!" Hermione called. "Luna, over here!"

Luna wordlessly made her way over.

Surprised by how quickly time had flown, Hermione glanced down at her watch to see that it was indeed a quarter till noon. Even more surprising, however, was the fact that for the past half-hour, Hermione had been sitting alone at a table drinking butterbeer thinking only about Harry.

But she chose to ignore that fact.

"Hello, Hermione," Luna greeted serenely as she took a seat at the table.

"Hi, Luna," she replied. "Harry probably won't be arriving for at least another hour but our other guest _should_ be here soon."

Luna simply nodded, turning her head to stare out the window.

Hermione heard the door open once again and shot her head around quickly. There she spotted Rita Skeeter wearing an unpleasant sneer and looking around the room warily.

Hermione waved, flashing her an award-winning smile. Rita caught sight of her and grudgingly made her way over.

"Have a seat," Hermione said, gesturing to an empty chair next to her.

Rita narrowed her eyes on Hermione before sitting down with a huff.

"Hello," Luna said dreamily. "You're Rita Skeeter."

Rita looked Luna up and down, her nose scrunched up in distaste. "And just who might you be?"

"Luna Lovegood," Luna replied, extending her hand out to Rita.

"Pleasure," Rita stated with disdain, reluctantly taking Luna's hand.

Then Rita turned on Hermione.

"I haven't got all day, Granger, so whatever it is you want, spit it out," she said.

"Don't worry you'll find out in due time," Hermione replied calmly.

"And what, may I ask, are you waiting for?" asked Rita, glaring daggers at Hermione.

"Harry," Hermione said simply.

She saw a glint in Rita's eyes that frightened her just a bit.

"Harry?" Rita inquired earnestly. "As in Harry Potter?"

"Mhm."

Rita suddenly seemed much more pleased about her current predicament.

"So," drawled Rita, "you and Potter spending Valentine's Day together, hmm?"

Hermione's heart skipped a beat.

"No," she said coolly, scolding her emotions for acting so strangely, "but even if we _were_, it would be absolutely none of your business."

Rita snorted. "Still a bit sour about my article last year, are we?"

Hermione scowled at her. "You had no right to make up such stories about us. It was all a bunch of lies!"

"Was it?" Rita asked, raising one eyebrow annoyingly high. "Your eyes say otherwise, Granger."

Hermione let out a laugh. "Is that so?"

"Nothing to be ashamed of," she goaded. "He's a very charming young wizard."

"I'm glad you think so. Perhaps _you've_ taken an interest in him, then?" Hermione asked innocently.

"Just keep deflecting, Granger," Rita said.

Hermione scoffed at her, rolling her eyes. "How about I just tell you why we're here so that perhaps we can all gain a little peace of mind."

"Gladly," Rita replied, smiling maliciously.

"All right, well, because of recent events I thought it would be an excellent time to—"

"Harry's here," Luna stated vaguely.

Hermione and Rita both turned their heads towards the spot where Luna was staring.

"Harry! Harry, over here!" Hermione called, waving at him from the other side of the room.

Hermione watched him get up and make his way toward her through the crowded pub. She could see the confusion clearly written on his face as he saw Rita and Luna sitting next to her.

"You're early!" said Hermione, moving along to give him room to sit down. "I thought you were with Cho, I wasn't expecting you for another hour at least!"

_And why isn't Cho with you...? _

This couldn't be good.

"Cho?" said Rita at once, twisting around in her seat to stare avidly at Harry. "A _girl?_"

She snatched up her crocodile-skin handbag and groped within in.

"It's none of _your_ business if Harry's been with a hundred girls," Hermione told Rita coolly. Harry's eyes widened considerably at that statement. "So you can put that away right now."

"What are you up to?" Harry asked, sitting down and staring from Rita to Luna to Hermione.

"Little Miss Perfect was just about to tell me when you arrived," said Rita, taking a large slurp of her drink. "I suppose I'm allowed to _talk_ to him, am I?" she shot at Hermione.

_Preferably not. _

"Yes, I suppose you are," said Hermione coldly.

Rita took another great gulp of her drink and said out of the corner of her mouth, "Pretty girl, is she, Harry?"

Hermione could feel her blood start to boil.

"One more word about Harry's love life and the deal's off and that's a promise," said Hermione irritably.

"What deal?" said Rita. "You haven't mentioned a deal yet, Miss Prissy, you just told me to turn up. Oh, one of these days..."

"Yes, yes, one of these days you'll write more horrible stories about Harry and me," said Hermione indifferently. "Find someone who cares, why don't you?"

Hermione could feel her face heat up slightly at the mention of the article. But thankfully Rita hadn't noticed. Or Harry for that matter.

_Stupid article. _

"They've run plenty of horrible stories about Harry this year without my help," said Rita, shooting a sideways look at him over the top of her glass and adding in a rough whisper, "how has that made you feel, Harry? Betrayed? Distraught? Misunderstood?"

"He feels angry, of course," said Hermione in a hard clear voice. "Because he's told the Minister of Magic the truth and the Minister's too much of an idiot to believe him."

Rita continued prying answers out of Harry before stopping abruptly. "But of course," she said, lowering her quill and looking daggers at Hermione. "Little Miss Perfect wouldn't want that story out there, would she?"

"As a matter of fact," said Hermione sweetly, "that's exactly what Little Miss Perfect _does _want."

Harry and Rita both stared her.

And so Hermione set out to explain exactly what she wanted out of each of the three occupants at the table. Harry would give an interview. Rita would write up the article. And Luna would take it to her father who would then publish it in _The Quibbler_.

At this, Rita cackled loudly.

Then, when she found out that she would not be receiving any sort of monetary compensation her cackles turned into venomous glares.

"I don't suppose I've got any choice, have I?" said Rita, her voice shaking slightly.

"Daddy will be pleased," said Luna brightly. A muscle twitched in Rita's jaw.

"Okay, Harry?" said Hermione, turning to him. "Ready to tell the truth?"

"I suppose," said Harry.

"Fire away, then, Rita," said Hermione serenely.

* * *

><p>While Harry and Hermione sat at dinner on Monday night waiting for Ron to return from Quidditch practice, Hermione saw Cho Chang walk into the hall with her friend Marietta.<p>

"Oh, I forgot to ask you," said Hermione brightly, "what happened on your date with Cho? How come you were back so early?"

Harry suddenly looked uncomfortable.

_Uh oh._

"Er...well, it was..."

_Oh great, he's mumbling. _

"A complete fiasco, now you mention it."

The image of weepy Cho suddenly flitted through Hermione's mind and she grimaced.

And so, Harry launched into his story of what had transpired in Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop.

Hermione listened intently as Harry explained in detail the disaster after disaster that had occurred on his date with Cho.

"...so then," he finished several minutes later, "she jumps up, right, and says 'I'll see you around, Harry,' and runs out of the place!" He put down his spoon and looked at Hermione, "I mean, what was all that about? What was going on?"

_Well for starters...she took you to Madam Puddifoot's. _

She chose not to speak this particular thought aloud, however and forced herself to remain objective. Hermione glanced over at the back of Cho's head and sighed. "Oh, Harry," she said sadly. "Well, I'm sorry, but you were a bit tactless."

"_Me,_ tactless?" said Harry outraged. "One minute we were getting on fine, next minute she was telling me that Roger Davies asked her out, and how she used to go and snog Cedric in that stupid tea shop—how was I supposed to feel about that?"

Hermione sighed again. She wanted so desperately to assure him that not all girls were this complicated and that unfortunately he just happened to pick one that had far too much emotional baggage attached to her. However she continued to remain objective.

"Well you see," said Hermione, "you shouldn't have told her that you wanted to meet me halfway through your date."

"But, but," spluttered Harry, "but—you told me to meet you at twelve and to bring her along, how was I supposed to do that without telling her—"

"You should have told her differently," said Hermione patiently. "You should have said it was really annoying, but I'd _made_ you promise to come along to the Three Broomsticks, and you really didn't want to go, you'd much rather spend the whole day with her, but unfortunately you thought you really ought to meet me and would she please, please come along with you, and hopefully you'd be able to get away more quickly? And—"

Hermione looked down for a moment before adding the last bit. Something inside her chest squeezed tightly. But she forced herself to look back up into his eyes. "And...it might have been a good idea to mention how ugly you think I am too."

And just like always, she hated herself for feeling this way. For being so pathetic. For caring so much. But she _refused_ to let a single emotion cross her features as she continued to stare into Harry's eyes. His green eyes. Her favourite colour.

Then he spoke.

"But I don't think you're ugly," said Harry bemused.

Hermione continued to stare at him for a moment. But in her mind a whirlwind of thoughts were rushing about a mile a minute before her eyes. Memory upon memory came crashing to the forefront of her mind. Images of a little girl with a tear-streaked face, bushy hair, and big front teeth, running home and into her mother's arms. The sounds of laughing and jeering that used to ring in her ears for hours upon hours at a time as she sat alone in her room, staring at her reflection in the mirror. And the voices. The terrible voices shrieking at her. Telling her that she was ugly. That her hair was ugly. Her clothes. Her teeth. Her books. Her everything was ugly.

_But I don't think you're ugly._

* * *

><p>AN: Hey guys, so as you can probably tell this chapter is one of the first turning points in the story therefore I would appreciate it _immensely _if you could leave me a review and give me some feedback. Sometimes when I read through my chapters I don't particularly like the pacing so it would be really helpful to gain another person's perspective. But anything would be appreciated, thanks for reading!


	15. Chapter 15

_One of the most treacherous things you can do is lie to yourself. If you think something, then think it freely. If you feel something, then feel it fully. If you are something, then be it to the best of your ability. Just be honest with yourself. I know it can be so very hard at times. But I also know the mess that lies can create._

* * *

><p>Hermione had gone to sleep that night with a myriad of emotions. She had never wished as desperately as she did at this moment that she could have a close female companion with whom she could spill all these emotions to. The only person she could think of was Ginny. But something told Hermione that it wouldn't be the wisest decision to divulge this particular information to her.<p>

But what was this information, anyway? What exactly was she feeling? And why couldn't she get his voice and his words out of her mind?

She should have seen this coming. How could she not have seen this coming? All the feelings that she had pushed aside and ignored for so many months were now bursting through the makeshift dam she had unknowingly placed around her heart.

But it angered her.

Why should those six simple words turn her entire world upside down? No, she wasn't that shallow. She wasn't that pathetic. And more importantly, she wasn't a child anymore.

But yet, the way he had said it was so sincere. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Hermione sighed to herself and closed her eyes as she lay in bed. When would she just admit it? She was too tired to fight it any longer. She'd been fighting it for months.

She fancied Harry.

Stuffing her face in her pillow, she let out a groan.

* * *

><p>Hermione woke up the next morning with a nervous knot in her stomach. For several seconds she couldn't understand why, but then everything from the night before came rushing back to the forefront of her mind. And as a result, the knot in her stomach only tightened further.<p>

Was it pathetic that she was afraid to see Harry? Because she sure felt that way.

Nevertheless, she continued her morning routine as usual, all the time chanting the words: _It's just Harry_, _It's just Harry, _as somewhat of a mantra inside her head.

Despite this, however, she seemed to unconsciously spend an extra ten minutes attempting to tame her hair. And realizing this, she mentally scolded herself repeatedly before grabbing her bag in a huff and heading down the stairs and into the common room.

As she was an early riser, the common room was still quite empty. Harry and Ron wouldn't be up for at least another twenty more minutes, so she decided to head down to breakfast where the food would perhaps ease the ever-present knot in her stomach.

She was wrong.

Hermione threw her butter knife down on the table in frustration, earning several looks from her fellow Gryffindors.

_Okay, stop this, Hermione. Stop this right now._

"It's just Harry," she said quietly to herself. "It's just Harry."

Hermione looked at her watch. Did they honestly choose this day of all days to be late?

The doors to the Great Hall opened at that moment and Hermione immediately looked up.

But alas, she wanted to groan aloud as she saw Luna hopping over to the Ravenclaw table.

The doors opened a second time.

Fred and George.

Fifteen gruelling minutes later, the Great Hall was starting to empty out and there was still no sign of Harry and Ron.

Why was she getting all worked up over this, anyway? They would come down and she would greet them as usual and everything would be completely normal.

Again, she was wrong.

The doors opened a third time. Hermione hesitated before looking up. But almost beyond her control, her eyes travelled to the other side of the Great Hall and sure enough there was Harry and Ron.

Her stomach dropped almost immediately when she saw him, and she felt her heart fluttering like mad.

Hermione had to marvel at the human psychology for a moment. She had unknowingly fancied Harry for at least three months now, yet it wasn't until she had actually admitted this to herself that her body started to react in this manner.

"Morning," Harry greeted her, slightly out of breath as he and a flustered Ron joined her at the table.

"What took you so long?" Hermione scolded. "Class starts in about ten minutes."

"Yeah well, _someone_ didn't think to wake us up," said Ron, glaring at Neville who was rising from the bench.

Neville sheepishly looked down at his feet.

"Well hurry up and eat then. I don't fancy being late for Transfiguration," said Hermione.

"Just go on without us," said Harry.

She would never admit it aloud, but a small part of Hermione would have much rather stayed with him instead.

She shook off that feeling quickly, though, before hurrying off to class, shouting a "Don't be late," over her shoulder at them.

As the week wore on, Hermione was proud to say that this newfound affection towards Harry didn't dramatically change anything about her life thus far.

Some things were definitely different, yes. For example, she was suddenly much more conscious of Harry's presence. Going into any room, Hermione would immediately seek out his black messy hair and feel a slight twinge of disappointment if she couldn't find it. If he sat next to her class, she would suddenly become exceedingly aware of herself and her surroundings. She found herself giving her full rapt attention to the professor but not comprehending a single word they were saying because her mind was elsewhere. It was on Harry's leg that accidentally brushed against hers. It was on his hand that he would run through his hair when he was in deep concentration. And it was on his quiet contagious laughter and his magnificent smile.

However, she didn't let it overcome her. Her studies were infinitely more important than these ruddy feelings.

They were currently in Charms listening to Flitwick lecture about colour changing spells. Harry was seated on her right and Ron was next to him. Out of the corner of her eye Hermione could see them playing a game of Wizard Hangman in Ron's already defaced textbook.

She continued watching as Harry, guessing the letter 'v' (to which Hermione mentally scoffed at), caused his man to grow another leg. He then guessed another letter which she couldn't hear, but judging by the sudden mangled and bloodied image of the hangman, he seemed to have lost.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione turned her attention back to Flitwick.

"Now, all of you should take special note of colour changing spells because they often appear in the OWLs," Flitwick squeaked.

Hermione quickly made a note of it at the top of her parchment. She clicked her tongue with impatience as she heard Harry and Ron quietly chuckling to themselves. "Pay attention!" she hissed at them as they quickly fumbled around with their blank pieces of parchment and pretended like they were taking notes.

Hermione glared at them before once again turning her attention back to Flitwick.

"I don't even know why I bother helping you," Hermione told Harry and Ron at dinner that night. "You both can get T's on your exams, for all I care."

"Oh come on, Hermione," Ron said beseechingly. "Don't be such a—"

"A what, Ron?" Hermione asked, her eyebrows raised and daring him to speak.

"Uhm..."

"So you can get a T, then?" Harry asked suddenly, as if attempting to change the subject. "Fred and George were serious?"

"Well I suppose you two will help us find out, won't you?" Hermione said derisively.

"Doesn't matter anyway," Ron said through a mouth full of potatoes. "Harry wants to be an Auror, don't you Harry? And who in their right mind would deny Harry Potter as an Auror?"

"Even if that were true, how exactly does that help you?" Hermione asked Ron with one eyebrow raised.

Ron simply smirked and thumped Harry on the back. "It's always good to have connections," he stated causing Harry to roll his eyes.

"Don't worry, Hermione," Harry said. "We're not daft, we'll study."

"Who said I was worried?" replied Hermione.

"No one," Harry said innocently.

Hermione wanted to give him some cheeky reply, but none came to mind. So she settled with a 'good' and went back to her dinner.

She seemed to be doing that a lot lately, trying to be all witty and clever around Harry, which was actually quite foolish now that she came to think of it. Harry already knew she was clever. _She_ already knew she was clever. But she had to admit it was still nice...when she said something that made Harry smile or laugh. Yes, it was very nice.

"Ron!" someone shouted, bringing Hermione from her thoughts at once.

Ron jumped in his seat as he turned around to face a very intimidating Angelina Johnson.

"Yes?" Ron squeaked.

"I heard from Fred and George that you were thinking of skiving off the game this Saturday?" Angelina said, glaring at Ron.

"What?" Ron nearly screamed. "No! They're liars!"

Angelina stared at him menacingly for a moment. "Good," she stated finally. "I'm just making sure. I'll see you at practice tomorrow."

"See you," Ron replied. And when she left he breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm going to murder those prats," Ron said gruffly, "I told them I _wished_ I could skive off the game. Like I would actually go through with it. Angelina would skin me alive!"

Being prematurely reminded of the game on Saturday, Ron was in a depressed mood the rest of the night. The three of them had been working on homework in the common room when Ron shut his book in a huff and stated that he wanted to take a break. Harry and Hermione watched as he went to sit alone by the fire.

"Maybe I should go talk to him," Harry said quietly, still looking at Ron.

"Yeah," Hermione sighed. "Maybe you should."

"But it's not like I'm going to tell him anything I haven't said before," Harry argued.

"I know, Harry," Hermione said gently. "But sometimes you need to hear things more than once in order to believe them."

Harry seemed to ponder this for a moment before nodding his head and getting up. She watched as he walked over and sat down next to Ron. The two were silent for a moment, both staring into the fire. Then Harry started to say something which she couldn't make out from across the room. At first it didn't seem to be having much effect as Ron's shoulders were still slumped dejectedly, but eventually he seemed to return back to normal. She watched as Ron smirked and then proceeded to punch Harry in the arm.

Hermione smiled. Yes, he was definitely back to normal.

Harry and Ron both got up then and started heading towards her. Hermione looked down, pretending to have been working diligently on her homework the entire time.

"So when's that article thingy of yours supposed to come out, Harry?" said Ron, as he and Harry took a seat at the table.

"Dunno," replied Harry. "Do you know when, Hermione?"

"Well, Luna said it might have to be delayed since her father is expecting an article on recent sightings of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. And we all know how important _that_ will be."

There was silence for a moment.

Then Ron snorted loudly causing the other two to burst out into a fit of laughter.

* * *

><p>It was the morning of the Quidditch match and Ron looked especially queasy. It didn't seem to be helping that Angelina was barking at him to eat a proper breakfast. Or that Fred and George were openly betting on how many goals he would miss. Or that the Slytherins would erupt into a loud chorus of "Weasley is Our King" anytime one of them walked by. No, none of that seemed to be helping at all.<p>

About fifteen minutes after the Gryffindor team left to get ready for the game, Harry and Hermione along with the rest of the school walked down to the Quidditch pitch.

"So, do you think he's going to remember anything from your pep talk the other night?" Hermione asked Harry as they found seats by their fellow Gryffindors.

"Nope," Harry said simply.

"I didn't think so."

The teams were still in their respective locker rooms as the stands began to fill up. It felt strange having Harry here in the stands with her for a Gryffindor game. He'd been on the team since his first year and even though she knew how much he was dying to be in the air right now, she allowed herself the smallest bit of satisfaction at sitting here alone with him.

Suddenly, she heard Harry groan loudly next to her.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

He nodded his head towards the stairs and Hermione caught sight of Umbridge, clad in bright pink as usual, waddling up the staircase and making her way to a bench a few rows below them.

"Can we move?" Harry asked, looking at Hermione pleadingly.

Hermione had to bite back a smile. He looked like a little kid just then and she found it extremely endearing.

"Harry, the game's about to start," she said reasonably. "Just don't pay any attention to her."

But as both teams set off in the air, Hermione saw Umbridge turn in her seat and look directly at Harry, her wide toad's mouth stretched in what appeared to be a gloating smile.

Hermione looked quickly at Harry to see if he noticed and sure enough she could see him clenching his teeth and piercing Umbridge with his gaze.

Hermione laid a hand on Harry's arm. "Just ignore her, Harry," she whispered into his ear as Umbridge turned back to face the field.

Harry who was staring daggers at Umbridge's back, nodded grudgingly before turning his attention back to the match.

Hermione reluctantly removed her hand from Harry's arm and turned to watch as well.

However, watching the match was becoming more and more agonizing by the minute. Ron simply could not for the life of him save any goals that were coming his way, and Harry looked as if he was having a mental breakdown. Both his hands were in his hair as he was slumped over with his elbows on his knees.

They watched as one of the Hufflepuff chasers once again zoomed down the field to Ron's end and Hermione could practically hear all the Gryffindor fans groaning simultaneously.

"Come on, Ron," Harry pleaded.

The chaser was getting closer and closer until finally he threw the quaffle hard at the right goalpost. Everyone watched as Ron rushed to block the ball but then miss it by mere centimetres.

"Damn it, Ron. I've seen you block that shot a thousand times!" Harry exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

"Sit _down_, Harry," Hermione demanded, grasping his arm and pulling him back down.

"I can't do this anymore, Hermione, I can't watch," Harry said, burying his face in his hands. "Just tell me when it's over."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh look, Ginny's seen the snitch," she stated.

Harry's head snapped up.

"Oops, just kidding," Hermione said giggling.

"Hermione, I'm going to kill you."

But before Hermione could respond, everyone watched as one of the Gryffindor beaters missed the bludger and ended up hitting Angelina in the mouth with his bat.

There was a loud 'ooh' from the crowd.

"I don't know who I feel worse for, Angelina or the boy who hit her," Hermione said, watching Angelina screaming her lungs out at him.

"I'm gonna have to go with him," Harry concluded.

Hermione nodded.

They continued watching for about five more minutes when Harry suddenly grabbed Hermione's arm.

"Hermione!" he nearly shouted. "The snitch! The snitch is right there near Kirke's ankle!"

Hermione had to calm her heart that was fluttering madly at Harry's grip before attempting to answer in a normal voice. "Where?" she said, squinting. "I don't see it."

Letting go of her arm, he pointed at one of the Gryffindor beaters. "There!" he said. "And look! Ginny's seen it! Come on, Ginny. Come _on_. Don't hesitate just go. Go!"

But alas, Ginny had waited a second too long and the snitch had fluttered away and out of sight.

Harry threw his head in his hands again and groaned loudly.

"Hermione, remind me not to come to the next match. I think I might just go mental if I have to sit on the sidelines again," he said.

Hermione had to agree with him there. "Sure thing, Harry." She refrained from adding that Quidditch was just a sport and not a life or death situation. Somehow she didn't think that would go over well with him at the moment.

It was about twenty-two minutes into the game when Harry and Ginny spotted the Snitch again. Luckily this time, Ginny had not hesitated and even managed to snatch the Snitch from right under Hufflepuff Seeker Summberby's nose.

Unfortunately Gryffindor was short by ten points at the end of the match. But as Harry kept reminding her, it was a miracle that they managed to lose by such a small amount.

It seemed as if a gray cloud was hovering over the common room as everyone returned from the match. Hermione had a great urge to scream out 'It's just a game' in every single person's dismal face, but once again refrained from doing such a thing.

Fed up with watching everyone drown their sorrows in butterbeer, Hermione decided to head up to her dormitory for the night.

* * *

><p>The next morning at breakfast, they were greeted with a very pleasant surprise. As soon as Hermione saw the first couple of owls swoop down in front of Harry, she knew it could only mean one thing.<p>

"Harry!" Hermione said breathlessly, plunging her hands into the feathery mass and pulling out a screech owl bearing a long, cylindrical package. "I think I know what this means—open this one first!"

She watched as Harry ripped off the brown packaging. Out rolled a tightly furled copy of March's edition of _The Quibbler. _After scanning the front page he passed it over to Hermione and Ron.

And sure enough, there was Harry's face grinning sheepishly at them from the front cover. In large red letters across his picture were the words:

**HARRY POTTER SPEAKS OUT AT LAST:**

**THE TRUTH ABOUT HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED**

**AND THE NIGHT I SAW HIM RETURN**

Hermione couldn't seem to wipe the enormous smile on her face. She stared at the magazine then back at Harry, then at the magazine and back at Harry again. It was all so exciting!

"It's good, isn't it?" said Luna, who had drifted over to the Gryffindor table and now squeezed herself onto the bench between Fred and Ron. "It came out yesterday, I asked Dad to send you a free copy. I expect these are letters from readers."

"That's what I thought," said Hermione eagerly, "Harry, d'you mind if we—"

"Help yourself," said Harry, feeling slightly bemused.

And so Harry, Ron, and Hermione proceeded to rip open the many envelopes scattered across the table.

"This one's from a bloke who thinks you're off your rocker," said Ron, glancing down his letter, "Ah well..."

Hermione skimmed the letter in front of her quickly but looked up frowning. "This woman recommends you try a good course of Shock Spells at St. Mungo's." Crumpling up the letter, she reached for another.

"This one looks okay though," said Harry slowly. "Hey she believes me!"

Hermione smiled up at him before looking through her current letter.

"This one's in two minds," said Fred, who had joined in the letter-opening with enthusiasm. "Says you don't come across as a mad person, but he really doesn't want to believe You-Know-Who's back so he doesn't know what to think now...Blimey, what a waste of parchment..."

"Here's another one you've convinced, Harry!" said Hermione excitedly. She placed this letter neatly on top of the previous one before reaching once more into the pile and digging up a pink envelope.

As she was taking out the letter inside, a photograph fell out of the envelope as well. Hermione looked at it curiously before turning it over and staring at a rather pretty witch waving energetically back at her. She placed the photograph upside down on the table before opening up the highly scented letter.

_Dear Harry, _

_I've always thought the stories about you from _The Daily Prophet_ were a load of rubbish. I only just graduated from Hogwarts two years ago and though you may not know me, I know you, of course. And I also know that you aren't as barking mad as the Ministry makes you out to be. _

_I wrote this letter to let you know that I stand firmly behind you, Harry. And I've convinced many of my friends to do the same. Now, I'm not normally a reader of _The Quibbler_ but as I was walking through Diagon Alley yesterday, I happened to notice your picture on the front page. And I'd just like to add that you have definitely grown in the two years since I last saw you, Harry. You're quite an attractive young man, if I do say so myself. _

_I currently work at the Apothecary in Diagon Alley. Feel free to stop by anytime. Just ask for Tracy. I've included a photograph of myself for you. Maybe you'll remember seeing my face around at Hogwarts?_

_Anyways, feel free to owl me anytime you want. I would love to hear back from you._

_Yours Truly,_

_Tracy Palmer_

Hermione looked at the letter with disgust.

_The nerve! This tart is practically hitting on Harry. And she's probably almost twenty years old! That is half a decade older than him.. Half a decade! Why, it's practically pedophilia...How dare she call Harry attractive? How dare she suggest he stop by at her stupid shop? How dare she include a photograph of herself?_

"Sick..." Hermione said quietly to herself, crumpling Miss Palmer's letter in her hand and throwing it with the rest of the junk mail.

"What did you say, Hermione?" Harry asked over his own letter.

"What?" Hermione looked up startled. "Oh um...I said it's sickening how some people still refuse to believe you."

"Another one who thinks you're barking," said Ron, throwing a crumpled letter over his shoulder, "but this one says you've got her converted, and she now thinks you're a real hero—she's put in a photograph too—wow."

Hermione's mouth opened slightly in shock, but thankfully she recovered before anyone noticed.

_Oh for Merlin's sake! What is with these women?_ Her mind practically screamed. _I mean, yes, Harry is attractive. Even though he's a little short...and kind of scrawny...but he has that incredible smile...and those green eyes..._

"What is going on here?" said a falsely sweet, girlish voice.

Hermione instantly cringed as if by reflex.

"Why have you got all these letters, Mr. Potter?" said Umbridge slowly.

"Is that a crime now?" Fred said loudly. "Getting mail?"

"Be careful Mr. Weasley, or I shall have to put you in detention," said Umbridge slowly. "Well Mr. Potter?"

_Oh boy..._

"People have written to me because I gave an interview," said Harry. "About what happened to me last June."

Umbridge was practically seething as Harry told her about his interview during Hogsmeade.

"There will be no more Hogsmeade trips for you, Mr. Potter," she whispered. "How you dare...how you could..." She took a deep breath. "I have tried again and again to teach you not to tell lies. The message, apparently, has still not sunk in. Fifty points from Gryffindor and another week's worth of detentions."

She stalked away, clutching_ The Quibbler _to her chest, the eyes of many students following her.

"That went well," Fred said.

* * *

><p>AN: So I just want to clarify something. At this stage in time, Hermione is like...a sweet deprived child walking into Honeydukes for the first time. She's never really had a crush on anyone before and just like any other teenage girl she's easily excitable. However, despite this she maintains her dignity and as time goes on you'll all see how this giddiness turns into something much deeper. BUT ANYWAYS thanks to those of you who reviewed last chapter! I really appreciate it as always :) Keep them coming!


	16. Chapter 16

_The more I look back on those earlier years of my life, the more I begin to see patterns and connections to things that would occur much later. I wish I could say that they prepared me for what was to come...but I would be lying. Perhaps on some innate level, they did. On every other level, however, I can't say they did much. But I suppose there are some things in life that you simply cannot prepare you for. _

* * *

><p>Despite Harry's run-in with Umbridge that morning at the breakfast table (or perhaps because of it) news of the article spread like wild fire. By mid-morning, educational decree number twenty-seven had been enacted, stating that any student in possession of <em>The Quibbler<em> would be expelled.

Hermione couldn't help but beam every time she saw one of these signs. It was perfect! It was absolutely perfect. So perfect she wanted to laugh aloud with pleasure.

"What exactly are you so happy about?" Harry asker her suddenly as she smiled yet again at another sign.

"Oh Harry, don't you see?" Hermione breathed. "If she could have done one thing to make absolutely sure that every single person in this school will read your interview, it was banning it!"

Both Harry and Ron looked at her in confusion.

"But how will people be able to read it if it's banned?" Harry asked.

Hermione laughed. "Harry, since when has banning something ever stopped anyone from doing it?" she asked.

"Fair point."

"Blimey," Ron said, shaking his head, "Umbridge must be really thick."

"Yes, well, that's the problem with the entire ministry, isn't it?" Hermione said darkly. "They're not very intelligent."

"More like complete arse-heads," said a voice softly behind them.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned around to see Fred and George grinning at them.

"Where'd you two come from?" Ron asked.

"Same place as you," said Fred simply.

"Or at least, that's what they keep telling us," George added.

Ron glared at them. "Well what do you want, then?"

"Well my dear brother, we were just teaching a bunch of first-years how to bewitch their copies of _The Quibbler_ to look like a textbook—"

"—when we overheard a couple of strapping young lads from Ravenclaw state that they now believe Harry, over here," George said, grabbing Harry into a one armed hug and playfully ruffling his hair.

"So, we figured we'd let you lot know," added Fred.

"Well, thanks," said Harry, struggling to detach himself from George.

Hermione had to stifle a giggle as Harry finally broke free. His hair had reached a whole new level of untidiness, and she quickly fought back the urge to help him put it right again.

"Don't let the troll get you down, Harry," said Fred as he and George bid the trio farewell. "She'll get what's coming to her soon enough." He and George then shared a significant look before heading down the corridor.

"Well, let's just hope they don't get sent to Azkaban for whatever they're planning," sighed Ron. "Mum'll kill me."

As Harry, Ron, and Hermione queued up outside the greenhouses for Herbology, Hermione could clearly hear whispers following them, and the snippets of conversations she was able to catch almost all seemed to revolve around Harry and the interview.

Hermione sighed. It never ceased to amaze her how incredibly ill-mannered Hogwarts students could be. Harry was standing right there, for goodness sake. Couldn't they at least find the decency to not stare at him like he was some sort of display at a zoo?

"Come on, Harry, Ron," she said, beckoning towards the greenhouse, "let's go take our seats."

Soon the rest of the students started filling in as well with Professor Sprout entering last.

"Mr. Potter," said Sprout as everyone had settled down. "Fetch me that watering can, will you?"

Getting up obediently, Harry grabbed the watering can from the window sill and brought it over to her. She smiled at him warmly before stating in a very clear voice, "Thank you, Mr. Potter. Twenty points to Gryffindor!"

Hermione heard him mumble a 'not a problem' before walking towards her and Ron with a very confused expression on his face.

"Someone's feeling generous, eh?" Ron whispered to Harry as he sat back down.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe she felt bad about taking those points away from us last class when we spilled all that dirt on the ground."

"Yeah, maybe," Ron agreed after a bit of thought. "Serves her right, too."

Hermione sat there listening to their whispered exchange with one eyebrow raised. Should she even bother? No, she decided. She'd let Harry figure this one out on his own.

After Herbology, the Gryffindor fifth-years made their way back to the castle and up to their Charms lesson. The class period went on quite normally as they listened to a lecture about silencing charms. However, as the bell rang and everyone rushed out of the classroom, Professor Flitwick could be seen discreetly making his way over to where Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat.

When he reached them, Flitwick beamed up at Harry, pressing a box of squeaking sugar mice on him. He then uttered a '_Shh!'_ before quickly hurrying away.

The three were silent for a moment, staring at the spot their professor had been not ten seconds before. And then:

"What the_ bloody _hell was that about?"

"Er..." said Harry, staring down at the box in his hands. "I'm...not quite sure."

Hermione clicked her tongue loudly before grabbing her bag and heading towards the door. "You two better hurry up. You don't want to be late for Divination," she called over her shoulder.

"Hold on!" she heard Harry exclaim in realization as she was about to turn into the corridor. "I think I know what this is about, Ron..."

Hermione smirked to herself.

_There you go, Harry. I was starting to get worried. _

Hermione found it quite touching that the professors were going to such lengths to show their approval for Harry's actions. It almost made Umbridge's outright hostility bearable. She hadn't mentioned it to Harry, but Hermione had noticed Dumbledore staring down at him during breakfast that morning. His eyes seemed to be filled with pride and possibly even respect. But then, as Harry eventually looked up at the staff table, Dumbledore had immediately looked away, and she could not for the life of her understand why.

Harry had mentioned before how he thought Dumbledore had been ignoring him all year, and for the first time Hermione could see his point. She knew there must be a reason, though. There had to be.

As she entered her Arithmancy class, Hermione pushed her thoughts aside knowing that she'd come back to them later.

She took a seat at her usual table near the front, taking out some parchment, a quill and ink, and waiting patiently for class to begin. Arithmancy was her absolute favourite subject. Something about numbers and the manipulation of numbers had always fascinated her. And when she discovered that numbers actually had magical properties to them, it opened up a whole new world for her. It was like breaking a code or solving a mystery. It was absolutely thrilling.

"Afternoon, Hermione!" said Ernie Macmillan as he took a seat next to her.

"Hello, Ernie," Hermione replied, internally groaning. Ernie was a nice enough guy, but he always seemed to get on Hermione's last nerve. He was extremely competitive in his schoolwork, but Hermione didn't mind that as much seeing as how she usually received higher marks than him, anyway.

"So, how many hours of studying did _you_ get in this weekend?" Ernie asked somewhat snootily.

"I'm afraid I lost count," Hermione stated in a bored manner.

Ernie's eyes widened. "That long, eh?" he asked in awe. "Blimey...I knew I shouldn't have taken that break on Saturday... "

In truth, Hermione had only achieved about five hours of study this weekend, which in comparison to Ernie was pretty miniscule. He was averaging eight hours a day. Allegedly.

"Ernie, I'm sure you're studying more than enough," Hermione said, not wanting him to burn himself out at her expense.

"I'm going to have to disagree with you there, Hermione," he replied. "OWLs are only three months away! Three months!"

Hermione simply smiled politely at him before turning away with her eyebrows raised. Was that how she sounded to other people? She suddenly understood what it felt like to be Harry and Ron...

"So," Ernie whispered suddenly, "Harry's really stirred things up, hasn't he?"

Hermione smiled. "Yes, I suppose he has."

"He's really convinced a lot of people, you know," Ernie said. "Mind you, I believed him from the start."

Ernie began describing to Hermione how he had convinced his entire family that Harry was telling the truth when he was thankfully interrupted by Professor Vector entering the classroom.

From then on, he remained completely silent as he and Hermione gave their undivided attention to their professor.

When class ended, Ernie bid Hermione farewell and quickly headed out of the room along with the other students. Hermione was just about to walk out into the corridor herself when Professor Vector called her back.

"Miss Granger?"

"Yes, Professor?" Hermione replied, immediately jumping to the worst conclusions in her head.

_I failed that last homework assignment, didn't I...I know I did. I know I did._

"Do give Mr. Potter my good wishes, won't you?"

Hermione was slightly taken aback but nodded nonetheless. "Of course, Professor."

Professor Vector gave one of her rare smiles. "And do forgive me for discussing a matter with you that I'm afraid has nothing to do with the subject of Arithmancy whatsoever. I take it you won't mention anything to our dear Professor Umbridge?"

Hermione smiled widely. "I wouldn't dream of it, Professor."

"Off you go, then."

Hermione left the room still quite staggered from the exchange that just took place. How had Vector even known that her and Harry were close friends?

_Well, okay, who doesn't know that?_ she thought, rolling her eyes.

After dropping her things off in her dormitory, Hermione nipped into the girls' toilets before heading down to the Great Hall for lunch.

There she found a gaggle of girls chattering on about Harry—

_Wait, what?_

Hermione's brain screeched to a halt.

_Since when did girls talk about Harry in the loo? _

"Hermione Granger!"

Hermione quickly looked around to see who had called her name and saw about half a dozen pair of eyes boring into hers.

Then out of nowhere someone was pulling her arm, dragging her towards the group.

"Erm..." Hermione sputtered. "Can I help you?"

"You're best friends with Harry Potter, aren't you?" one rather tall girl asked.

"Yes..." Hermione said hesitantly.

They all stared at her for a moment. Then all at once, they began bombarding her with questions.

"Did he really see You-Know-Who come back?"

"Was Cedric Diggory actually murdered?"

"Why would Rita Skeeter even do this interview?"

"Does this mean the Ministry's been lying?"

"Is this why all those Death Eaters escaped from Azkaban?"

"Why would the Ministry lie?"

"Is Harry still dating Cho Chang?"

"Okay STOP!" Hermione shouted.

They all went silent immediately.

Hermione took a deep breath. "Everything in that article is true. And whether you believe it or not, it's your choice. Harry just wanted to tell his side of the story. So, you can call him a liar, you can call him mad, you can call him attention-seeking, whatever."

Hermione paused. "In the end, Voldemort _is_ back. And we all need to realize that...before it's too late."

Her proclamation was met with silence.

She was just about to turn around and leave when someone finally spoke up.

"I believe Harry."

Hermione looked around for the owner of the voice and saw a small Hufflepuff girl with pigtails looking determinedly back at her.

"I suppose...I do as well," said a Ravenclaw. "As much as I don't want to believe he's back...Potter's story just make more sense, logically."

A few others girls nodded and murmured in agreement.

Hermione smiled at them. "The first step in the road to recovery is admittance," she stated, happily.

"Sorry?"

Hermione sighed. "Never mind," she said. "Well...it's been nice chatting...but I'm going to go head down to lunch now."

She bid them goodbye and quickly made her way to the Great Hall, excited to tell Harry about what had just occurred in the girls' lavatory. And just excited to see Harry, in general.

Hermione felt her face grow warm at the thought. Just the sight of Harry these days would make her stomach erupt with butterflies. Being as stubborn as she was, it was hard to admit to herself that he had that effect on her. Once she began talking to him, everything would return back to normal, anyway.

But then he would do something stupid like smile at her or look her straight in the eye and off the butterflies went again. It was pathetic, really.

Harry and Ron were in mid conversation when Hermione took a seat across from them.

"What took you so long?" Ron asked.

"Well, funny story actually," Hermione began, "I went to use the loo after Arithmancy and I found just about every girl in there talking about Harry and his interview."

Harry and Ron's eyes widened considerably at this statement. She could even see a blush starting to creep up Harry's neck.

"What?" she asked

"Girls...talking about Harry...in the loo..." Ron said slowly.

Hermione scoffed. "Oh, grow up," she stated, looking at both of them with an exasperated expression. "This wasn't some schoolgirl natter before lunch. We were having a serious conversation."

Ron threw Harry a disbelieving look which only irritated Hermione further.

"_Anyway_," Hermione continued, turning to speak to Harry, "I went in there and then they spotted me, and obviously they know I know you, so they were bombarding me with questions. And Harry, I think they believe you, I really do. I think you've finally got them convinced!"

Harry smiled at her. "That's fantastic. I owe it all to you, Hermione. I really do," he said, looking at her sincerely.

"Oh, nonsense," Hermione replied, feeling a little flustered.

"No, really," Harry continued. "You're the one who thought to do the article. If it wasn't for you, I'd still be at risk of suffering an early death."

"Harry, you know that's not—wait, what?" Hermione asked, utterly confused.

She looked at Ron who was chuckling into his shepherd's pie, and then back at Harry who was trying to hold back a grin.

"What on _earth_ are you talking about, Harry?" she demanded.

"According to Trelawney, my future doesn't look so bleak anymore," Harry finally stated. "Quite the opposite, really. I'm going to live to a ripe old age, become Minister for Magic, and have how many children, Ron?"

"Twelve, I think it was."

"There you go," Harry told her, his face still remaining quite straight.

As soon as Hermione burst out laughing, however, Harry had succumbed as well.

"That's not even the best part," said Ron. "Toad-face was in the room, as usual, and she looked like she swallowed about a dozen of Fred and George's puking pastilles when Trelawney said Harry was going to be Minister for Magic."

"All the better!" Hermione said enthusiastically. "Oh, by the way, Harry, Professor Vector asked me to send you her good wishes."

Harry looked confused for a moment. "Isn't she the Arithmancy professor?"

"Mhm," Hermione replied.

"Er...how does she even know me? I don't think I've ever said two words to her."

Ron almost sprayed Harry in the side of the face as he took a swig of his pumpkin juice.

"Harry..." Hermione began as if speaking to a child. However, she was cut off by Ron who gave a huge guffaw.

"Have you gone batty, mate?" Ron asked.

Hermione glared at him before turning back to Harry. She had to admit, she found his cluelessness kind of adorable.

"Harry," Hermione began again, smiling slightly. "I think it's safe to say that everyone in this school...and Wizarding Britain...knows who you are."

"Oh...right," Harry replied.

"And anyway, Professor Vector just wanted to congratulate you on the interview," Hermione added.

"That makes almost every professor, Harry." Ron said. "You reckon Snape'll give you a box of squeaking sugar mice?"

* * *

><p>Hermione was absolutely thrilled by the response that Harry's interview was receiving. It was the day after Harry's confrontation with Umbridge, and despite <em>The Quibbler<em> being banned it seemed as though every single person in the school had read the article.

Hermione joined the queue outside the Transfiguration classroom and looked around for Harry and Ron. She had just come from Ancient Runes and hadn't seen either of them since breakfast. She instantly spotted Ron but was rather disappointed when didn't see Harry next to him.

Hermione walked over to Ron and noticed that he was talking to Seamus which was odd since both Harry and Ron had ignored Seamus for practically the entire year. However, as she got closer she noticed Ron didn't seem too thrilled with the conversation.

"Hello, Ron...Seamus," she greeted them uncertainly.

"Hello, Hermione," Seamus responded, not looking at her.

Ron simply grunted, his eyes still fixed shrewdly on the boy in front of him.

"Erm...I hope you don't mind me asking...but what exactly is going on?" Hermione said.

"Well," Ron stated, "it looks like someone's finally realized how much of wanker he's been all year."

"Ron!" Hermione hissed.

"No, he's right, Hermione," Seamus said quietly. "I should've believed Harry from the start. I just hope he can forgive me. Will _you_ forgive me, Ron?"

Ron crossed his arms, scowling slightly.

"Ron," Hermione said quietly, nudging him with her elbow.

"I'll forgive him if Harry does," he said finally.

"Where is Harry, anyway?" Hermione asked, seeing that he still hadn't arrived. "Class is about to start soon."

Ron shrugged. "He was talking to Cho, I think."

Ron had no idea how much those simple words had cut through Hermione like a knife.

"Harry! There you are," Hermione heard Ron call out.

She turned her head and saw Harry walking towards them. His face was slightly flushed and his eyes looked dazed. And at that moment, Hermione hated Cho Chang.

She knew it was completely unreasonable, but right now reason wasn't her main concern.

Hermione was barely aware of Seamus stepping out of the queue to apologize to Harry, but judging by Ron's response, Harry seemed to have forgiven him.

All throughout Transfiguration Hermione was almost exploding with curiosity over what Harry and Cho had talked about.

She supposed she could just ask him later. But that might seem too nosy. Besides, did she really even want to know what they talked about? Cho probably just commended him on the interview. Apologized to him about walking out on their date. Told him how fantastic and brave he was. She wasn't a very complex girl to figure out.

Hermione grinned somewhat evilly to herself at that last thought.

However, she immediately felt guilty when she snuck a glance at Harry. She couldn't mentally tease someone that Harry liked. No matter how much Hermione _disliked_ them. It just wasn't fair to him. And if she was being completely honest with herself...it wasn't fair to Cho either.

God, she hated when she was completely honest with herself.

* * *

><p>March had soon blurred into April and Hermione's stress level seemed to be reaching brand new heights. Hagrid was practically hanging by a thread with his job, Harry was continuing to be unsuccessful with his Occlumency lessons, her and Ron's prefect duties seemed to be becoming even more demanding, she still couldn't figure out why Dumbledore was ignoring Harry, she hadn't knitted so much as a sock for the house elves since December, Harry and Cho were still being overly chummy, and to top it all off, the OWLs were less than two months away and Ernie Macmillan was going to get his head jinxed off if he reminded her one more time.<p>

Just about the only thing that seemed to ease Hermione's stress level these days were DA meetings. True, the spells they were learning were becoming increasingly more difficult, but it made it all that much more gratifying.

She couldn't believe how much she'd learned from Harry this year. He was such a remarkable teacher, and Hermione found herself soaking in every last detail of his talks, as if he were any other professor at Hogwarts.

Hermione, along with most of the other DA members, were especially excited to head up to the Room of Requirement that night. Today they were finally going to start working on Patronuses.

At precisely seven o'clock, everyone was seated on a pillow and eagerly waiting for Harry to begin.

Ever since Hermione's acceptance of her feelings towards Harry, DA meetings were becoming all the more enjoyable. Something about Harry as a teacher made him even more attractive to Hermione. Whenever she would be the first to get a spell right and Harry would look upon her with that pride in his eyes, it made her heart fill to the brim with joy.

"...so you just have to think of one of your happiest memories. Let it fill you up and overwhelm you completely. After that, you say the incantation: _Expecto Patronum_." As Harry explained, he pointed his own wand and out emerged a beautiful silver stag that bounded across the room.

There were 'ooh's and 'ahh's as everyone followed the stag with their eyes.

However, everyone soon found out that Harry had made the task look quite easy. Twenty minutes into the meeting and no one had produced so much as a puff of silver smoke.

_Okay, happy memory, Hermione, happy memory. Think. The day I got my Hogwarts letter?_

Hermione screwed up her eyes in concentration trying to remember every detail of that day and the joy she felt as Professor Dumbledore explained to her parents that their daughter had been born with a special gift.

She allowed the feeling to fill her up then raising her wand she uttered the incantation.

The smallest of silver wisps emitted from her wand, but Hermione was quite excited nonetheless. She didn't want to call out to Harry just yet, though. She knew she could do better. Perhaps a happier memory?

Hermione raked through her mind for a moment in her life when she was utterly happy. She recalled the infamous Halloween night back in her first-year when Harry and Ron had saved her from the troll, and had ultimately become her best friends, her _first_ friends.

She was able to get a few more wisps of silver smoke this time. Did she need a happier memory? Or was she not concentrating enough...

Hermione realized it might have been the latter as she caught herself staring fixedly at Harry who was currently trying to help an indecisive Justin Finch-Fletchley pick between two happy memories.

"Look, why don't you just try both, okay?" Harry suggested, obviously trying his best to maintain his patience.

Hermione giggled quietly then turned her focus back to the situation at hand.

_Happy memory...Happy memory...oh no, Harry's coming near...all I've produced so far is some ruddy fog...I need to show him that I can do it! If I could just find a blasted memory..._

But all Hermione could think about at the moment was Harry. Right now, _he_ was filling her up and _he_ was overwhelming her.

"Of course!" Hermione whispered to herself excitedly. Harry made her happy...

And so she searched for the happiest memory she had of him. It didn't take very long.

Hermione closed her eyes, smiling slightly to herself.

_She was in the Great Hall and Harry was sitting right across from her. Staring at her with those green eyes of his. As he spoke the words that she had unknowingly been waiting her entire life to hear. Just once. _

_And he had said them to her. He, Harry, had said them. Maybe if it had been someone else, it wouldn't have affected her this way. But it was Harry. And she trusted Harry. She trusted him. _

"Expecto Patronum!"

Hermione opened her eyes and saw a silvery...thing...emerge from her wand. She smiled brightly as she recognized just what the 'thing' was.

"An otter!" she cried happily. She loved otters! Apart from cats, they were her favourite animal in the world. She remembered going to the zoo every summer when she was younger and practically dragging her parents to see the otters.

Hermione smiled reminiscently. Those days were wonderful. During the summer holidays, she hadn't a care in the world. Her dreadful peers weren't there to push her around or call her names or make fun of her. It was just her, and her parents, and her books, and her trips to the zoo. It was her life. And she felt free and...safe.

"Hermione, you did it!"

Hermione looked up and saw Harry smiling broadly at her. She instantly smiled back, feeling a comforting warmth inside her heart.

Harry walked up to her to take a better look at her Patronus.

"And as usual, Miss Granger is the first one to prove successful," he stated playfully. "An otter, huh?"

Hermione shrugged. "My favourite animal."

"Don't let Crookshanks hear you say that," Harry said.

"Luckily, he's well out of earshot," Hermione replied.

After about ten minutes, more people were able to produce an actual Patronus and almost everyone had produced at least some silver vapour.

"Now, I just want to remind you all that producing a Patronus in the middle of a brightly lit room when you're not under threat is very different to producing it when confronted by a Dementor," Harry told them all.

"Oh, don't be such a killjoy," said Cho brightly, watching her silvery swan-shaped Patronus soar around the Room of Requirement. "They're so pretty!"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"They're not supposed to be pretty, they're supposed to protect you," she heard Harry say patiently.

Just then, Hermione's heart nearly stopped as she saw the door to the Room of Requirement open. There didn't seem to be anyone there until she saw Dobby emerge from within the group and hurry over to Harry.

Hermione instantly began to worry. What could Dobby possibly want from Harry?

Soon enough, though, her worries were confirmed.

"Harry Potter...she...she..."

"Who's 'she,' Dobby?" Harry asked hastily. "Umbridge?"

Dobby nodded and Hermione was now sure that her heart had stopped.

"Is she coming?" Harry asked quietly.

"Yes, Harry Potter, yes!" Dobby howled.

Harry straightened up and looked around at the motionless, terrified people gazing at the elf.

"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?" Harry bellowed. "RUN!"

Everyone in the room pelted toward the exit at once. Hermione's heart was beating in her ears. She looked around and saw that Harry was still in the centre of the room.

"Harry, come on!" she shrieked.

She was near the door now and looked behind her again to see Harry scoop up Dobby in his arms and run to join the back of the queue.

As Hermione finally made it out into the corridor, she saw DA members running left and right and sincerely hoped that they had the sense not to try and make it all the way up to their dormitories at once.

Hermione spotted Ron up ahead and ran to catch up with him after she saw that Harry had made it out into the corridor. Together they took refuge in the library which was much nearer than the Gryffindor common room.

Trying their best not to appear out of breath, they sat down at a table, quickly grabbing any book around them in order to appear occupied.

"Do you think everyone made it out okay?" Ron whispered over his book.

"I don't know...they were all out of the corridor pretty quickly..." Hermione said. "I'm worried about Harry, though. He was the last one out of the room."

"I'm sure he's fine..." Ron said, looking like he was trying to convince himself as much as her.

"I hope so," Hermione whispered.

After about twenty minutes, Hermione and Ron decided it was safe to head back to the common room. When they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, Hermione silently prayed that Harry would be waiting for them on the other side. She didn't know what would happen to him if he was caught...

When they stepped into the common room, however, there was no sign of him.

Ron seemed to notice this also as he immediately ran up to the crowd of DA members by the fire demanding to know where he was.

"We haven't seen him, Ron," said Fred in an uncharacteristically serious tone.

For the second time that night, Hermione's heart seemed to have failed her. "W-what do you mean you haven't seen him?" she asked fearfully.

A couple of people merely shook their heads.

"There's still about fifteen minutes left until curfew," said Parvati feebly. "Maybe he's just hiding out somewhere until he thinks it's safe to come back."

But fifteen minutes had come and gone and there was still no sign of Harry.

The common room was starting to empty with only the members of the DA still grouped around the fire. It was nearly a half an hour past curfew now.

Hermione had never remembered being so worried in her entire life. She could only imagine the horrors that Umbridge might inflict on Harry. She cut children's hands open during detention for Merlin's sake!

A couple of people began dozing off when finally, an hour later, the portrait hole opened to reveal Harry.

Everyone was quickly alert and focused on him as he walked over to them by the fire.

Hermione threw her arms around his neck and hugged him in relief. "Oh, Harry, we were so worried!" she said before quickly letting go.

"What happened, mate?" Ron asked with concern.

Harry took a seat on one of the chairs, placing his head in his hands.

"Harry?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

After a few seconds, Harry looked back up at everyone with a miserable expression on his face.

"Dumbledore's left the castle."

Hermione had to admit, that wasn't the first thing she would have expected to hear.

In a tired voice, Harry relayed to everyone just what exactly had happened since they had fled the Room of Requirement.

"So basically...we're screwed," said Fred.

* * *

><p>AN: First of all, yes, I did just end another chapter with Fred. Second of all, I was planning on getting this chapter out last Saturday, but alas, I was suffering from major writer's block. However, one positive outcome of this suffering is that I started to really plan the outline for this story and let me just say I'm really excited about it. It's going to take a bit of a long road to get there but...I'm hoping it'll be worth it in the end. ANYWAYS really long author's note...I really really really appreciated your reviews last chapter as with every chapter because reviews make a writer's world go round. Just sayin'


	17. Chapter 17

_It's truly amazing how sometimes one specific moment in your past can have such enormous repercussions that last throughout the rest of your life. You don't realize it then. You don't realize that you've just potentially altered your own future. But let me tell you...it's absolutely maddening having to contemplate the 'what would have occurred if that didn't happen' moments in your life. Believe me, I know. I've done it often. _

* * *

><p>Following Dumbledore's departure, things at Hogwarts seemed to be falling into utter disarray. They had all been greeted the very next morning with Educational Decree Number Twenty-Eight which declared Umbridge the new headmistress of Hogwarts. Following this, was the creation of Inquisitorial Squad which added much unneeded strut to Malfoy's step. And to top everything off, Filch was now going around muttering excitedly about corporal punishment.<p>

However, despite all of this, there did seem to be a few upsides to the situation. Fred and George had brilliantly set off fireworks in just about every inch of the school, causing Umbridge to spend her first afternoon as headmistress running all over, answering the summonses of the other teachers, none of whom seemed able to rid their rooms of the fireworks without her.

The twins had shown quite clearly that they were making it their mission to give Umbridge absolute hell, not giving a rat's behind if they were expelled in the process. And for the first time, Hermione wholeheartedly supported their decision. Frankly, nothing was quite as satisfying as seeing a dishevelled, soot-blackened, sweaty-faced Umbridge running around the school.

Pretty soon, the Friday before Easter holidays had fallen upon them, and Hermione couldn't be more thrilled. After today they would be free to enjoy a much needed break from all the stress of homework and studying.

Hermione snorted to herself. Who was she kidding? OWLs were in six weeks. There was no time for breaks!

As Hermione briskly made her way up to the library after dinner, she stopped abruptly when she heard someone sniffling up ahead, and saw none other than Cho sitting on a ledge and looking miserably out the window.

Hermione sighed. It seemed as if this girl would be in perpetual sadness. And despite the fact that she was supposed to hate Cho and that it was Cho's best friend who had ratted out the DA, Hermione couldn't help but still feel a bit bad for the girl as she watched her wiping tears from her eyes.

_But really, what could she be so sad about?_ Hermione thought. _She had Harry, didn't she?_

_Did she...?_

Hermione couldn't even keep up anymore and guiltily found herself wishing that Harry and Cho could just end this futile relationship. It was quite apparent to her that they just were not meant to be.

_So...who is he meant to be with then?_

Hermione's mind seemed to have formulated this question of its own accord.

_Me. _

And then seemed to answer it.

Continuing her brisk walk to the library, Hermione felt her cheeks grow warm at the idea of her and Harry in a relationship. Very, very warm.

And as she sat at a table with her Ancient Runes book lying open before her, Hermione could not for the life of her take in a word she was reading. All her mind wanted to do at the moment was think about Harry.

She groaned loudly after rereading the same sentence for about the fifth time because she was too busy contemplating what Harry's hair felt like.

_Probably really soft. Maybe even silky. It's always shiny, after all. But not in the disgusting oily kind of way. No, it definitely looks clean—_

_The runic symbol 'ehwaz' (pictured on the left), meaning 'partnership', symbolizes all the various bodies as vehicles for travel and movement—_

_Maybe I could just 'accidentally' brush my fingers against it...Would he notice? Probably..._

"Right, ehwaz," Hermione muttered, pushing her mind back into focus. "Ehwaz..."

After about two and a half hours of inner conflict, Hermione decided to call it a night and head back to the common room. Harry would probably still be at his Occlumency lesson, but Ron would be done with Quidditch practice by now.

Sure enough, when she entered the common room she found Ron and Ginny sitting near the fire with identical looks of glum on their faces.

Hermione took a seat on the couch next to Ginny. "How was practice?" she asked, already anticipating the answer.

"Rubbish, as usual," Ginny replied. "Ron had to take Sloper up to the hospital wing."

"Why, what happened?" Hermione asked surprised.

"The moron hit himself with his own bat," Ron stated.

"Well, we're not positive that's what happened..." Ginny offered fairly.

"Ah well, doesn't really matter, does it?" Ron said. "There's no way we're winning the cup this year."

"Don't let Angelina hear you say that," Ginny said wearily, getting up. "I'm off. The spring holidays start tomorrow and I, for one, am very much looking forward to doing absolutely nothing."

"Lucky you," Ron grumbled dejectedly.

"See you later, Ginny," Hermione said.

The portrait hole swung open moments later as Harry entered the common room. Hermione was surprised to find his face looking especially white and bearing a somewhat troubled expression.

"You're back early," she said as he approached them.

"Snape had to go fetch Montague from the fourth floor toilets," Harry replied vaguely.

Ron snorted. "Finally found him, then, did they?" he said. "Merlin, Fred and George really outdid themselves with that vanishing cabinet..."

Harry simply nodded.

"Are you feeling okay, Harry?" Hermione asked, her tone filled with concern.

He looked up at her as if surprised she were there. "Yeah, I'm fine," he answered. "I'm just...tired. I think I'm going to turn in for the night."

And with that, Harry stood up and left for his dormitory.

"What d'you reckon is wrong with him?" Ron asked.

Hermione shrugged. "Maybe Snape was extra hard on him today," she suggested.

"Let's just hope he doesn't keep tossing around and talking in his sleep again," Ron said more to himself than to Hermione.

"He talks in his sleep?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Sometimes," Ron said. "Only when he's having those dreams of his."

"So he's still having dreams, then?" Hermione prodded.

Ron's eyes widened as he realized what he'd just told her.

"N-no...no, it's been a while," he stammered slightly, averting her eyes.

"Ron," Hermione said warningly.

"I can't even really remember the last time..." he added, still not looking at her.

"Ron."

"Honestly, he practically sleeps like a baby most nights."

"_Ronald Weasley."_

"Okay, okay fine!" Ron exclaimed, throwing his hands up in defeat. "They haven't stopped. And to be honest...I don't think he even wants them to stop. But when you think about it, they have come in useful haven't they? I mean he did save my dad, didn't he?"

"Ron, no! This is dangerous!" Hermione retorted. "Harry and Voldemort have some kind of connection, and if Harry doesn't learn how to block his mind from outside penetration, then who knows what Voldemort could do!"

Ron looked guiltily to the ground.

"Oh, I am going to _kill_ Harry," Hermione said aggressively, causing Ron to wince.

"Please don't tell him I told you, Hermione..." he said apprehensively. "He made me promise not to tell you."

"Oh, did he, now?" Hermione exclaimed.

"He just didn't want you to worry!" Ron said, attempting to dig himself out of his own hole.

"He didn't want me to keep nagging him, more like," Hermione amended, crossing her arms over her chest in annoyance.

"Well...yeah...that, too," Ron admitted.

"I'll just have to have a word with him then, won't I?"

* * *

><p>"But why haven't you got Occlumency lessons anymore?" said Hermione, frowning.<p>

"I've _told_ you," Harry muttered. "Snape reckons I can carry on by myself now I've got the basics..."

"So you've stopped having funny dreams?" said Hermione sceptically, shooting Ron a look.

"Pretty much," said Harry, not looking at her.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. She knew full well that Harry was lying through his teeth at the moment, but what she didn't understand was why Snape was stopping his lessons.

"Well, I don't think Snape should stop until you're absolutely sure you can control them!" said Hermione indignantly. "Harry, I think you should go back to him and ask—"

"No," said Harry forcefully. "Just drop it, Hermione, okay?"

She sighed heavily. "Fine."

She would talk to him about it later. Hermione could see that something was clearly bothering him right now as he kept staring off blankly for large periods of time.

"What's wrong, Harry?" she finally asked him.

"What?" he said quickly. "Nothing..."

Hermione watched as he seized his copy of _Defensive Magical Theory _and pretended to be looking something up in the index.

She could usually figure out what was bothering him fairly quickly and that fact that she now couldn't was especially frustrating..

He looked almost as depressed as...

"I saw Cho earlier," said Hermione tentatively, "and she looked really miserable too...Have you two had a row again?"

"Wha—oh yeah, we have," said Harry, a little too eagerly, Hermione noted.

"What about?"

"That sneak friend of hers, Marietta," said Harry.

"Yeah, well, I don't blame you!" said Ron angrily, "If it hadn't been for her..."

Ron then went into a very lengthy rant about Marietta Edgecombe which Harry only barely took part in.

Hermione concluded that the situation with Cho wasn't what was bothering him. Yet, she was still no closer to understanding what was.

However, one thing was very clear. It didn't seem as though Harry and Cho would continue any longer, and this simple fact caused Hermione to inwardly whoop with joy.

Hermione felt bad about being happy while Harry was still in this state of unknown depression, but she could worry about that later. Right now, she just wanted to revel in the fact that Cho was no longer in the picture.

"...yeah she was going on about how Marietta's mum works at the ministry, or some rubbish like that. I told her your dad works at the ministry too, but you haven't got 'sneak' written across your face."

Ron guffawed loudly. "And how did she take that?"

"Not well," Harry replied, grinning slightly. "She said it was a horrible trick of Hermione's to jinx the parchment."

Hermione looked up from the study schedule she had been drawing and saw Harry's green eyes staring straight into her own.

"I told her I thought it was brilliant," he said simply.

Hermione couldn't be certain, but she thought her heart might have just melted inside her chest. "Thanks, Harry," she said quietly. "You didn't have to say that..."

"But it's true!" Harry said earnestly.

"Yeah, Hermione, that sneak deserved what she got," added Ron fervently.

"Even so...I doubt Cho was very pleased with you defending me," Hermione stated. In reality, she couldn't care less what Cho was or was not pleased with. What she did care about, however, was Harry's reaction.

"I don't even care anymore, to be completely honest," Harry said, shrugging his shoulders. "Besides I'm pretty sure she hates me now, anyway."

"How come?" Ron asked.

Harry suddenly looked slightly guilty. "Well...I think I was a bit harsh with her. I told her not to start crying again...Then she sort of shouted at me..."

Ron snorted loudly. "Well, someone had to inform her that she was turning into a human hosepipe," he said, smirking at Harry. "Good on you, mate."

"Ron, don't be an insensitive prat," Hermione said as if speaking to a child. "The same goes for you, Harry. I understand the circumstances, but try to be a little bit more considerate of people's feelings in the future."

"No matter how thick they are?" Harry asked innocently.

Hermione stared at him sternly for a moment before shaking her head and smiling slightly despite herself.

The both of them were just lucky she was in a good mood.

* * *

><p>The spring holidays were well under way and Hermione found herself lazing around on the Hogwarts grounds with Ginny one afternoon for a much needed break from the library.<p>

"If feels like I haven't seen the sun in ages," Ginny stated dramatically, lying flat on her back with her eyes closed.

"It _looks_ like you haven't seen the sun in ages," Hermione responded with a smirk.

"Don't be a smart arse, it doesn't suit you."

"My apologies."

After about ten more minutes of silent relaxation, Hermione turned to her side to find Ginny in the same position with her eyes still closed.

Hermione sat up and poked her lightly in the arm.

"Hmm?"

"I'm bored," she stated simply.

Ginny ignored her, so Hermione tried poking her once again.

"What, Hermione?" Ginny asked, annoyance evident in her voice.

"Can't we do something?" Hermione said. "Or at least talk?"

Hermione smiled as Ginny sat up with a groan.

"How is it that you can sit through two hours of History of Magic without one complaint, yet you get bored lying on the grass with the sun's rays upon your face and the sounds of nature serenading you?" Ginny asked dumbfounded.

"That was quite beautiful," Hermione said, impressed. "And I don't know...I guess I just feel strange sitting here doing absolutely nothing."

"It's called relaxing, Hermione," Ginny stated. "You should try it sometime. But hey, if you want to talk, then we can talk."

"Good," Hermione smiled, sitting cross-legged and facing Ginny.

"So, I saw that career thingy on the bulletin board in the common room. Have you thought about what you want to do?" Ginny asked.

"A bit, yeah..." Hermione said slowly.

"And...?"

"Well, you're going to laugh me," Hermione said, pulling blades of grass from the ground.

"Possibly."

Hermione sighed. "I was thinking of going into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"What's so bad about that?" Ginny asked, confused. "Oh wait! You want to work on sp—I mean S.P.E.W, don't you?"

Hermione nodded. "But it's not just house elves. So many beings are discriminated against in the magical world. Werewolves, for example, and Giants, even Goblins."

Ginny scrunched up her nose at the last one. "Bill says Goblins are insufferable creatures."

"Yes, well, maybe they're so insufferable because of the way Wizards have treated them for the past however many centuries."

"Maybe," Ginny agreed. "But I don't really intend on finding out."

"Anyway, I think it's really good of you to want to do this sort of thing," Ginny added. "Merlin knows nobody else does."

"Oh, thanks," Hermione replied sarcastically as both girls laughed.

"So, why does Harry want to talk to Sirius so badly?" Ginny asked sometime later.

"What?" Hermione said, confused.

"When I went to give him the chocolate eggs Mum sent him for Easter, he looked really depressed about something. At first I thought it was because of Cho. I mean, it's obvious the two have split up what with her crying even harder in the toilets' recently. So, I asked him."

"What did he say?" Hermione asked.

"He said he wanted to talk to someone, and that someone wasn't Cho, it was Sirius," Ginny said, careful not to speak too loudly in case of prying ears.

Hermione merely shrugged. "I honestly have no idea why. Harry's not a very open person, is he?"

"Doesn't he tell you and Ron everything?"

"Not always. And most of the time I have to prise whatever it is out of him," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

"Hey, at least he tells you things," Ginny said, attempting to sound nonchalant but not quite succeeding.

"He told you about Sirius, didn't he?" Hermione pointed out.

"I guess," Ginny said quietly.

"So you'll never _believe_ what Harry told Cho when they had that little squabble of theirs," Hermione said, attempting to change the subject.

"What?" Ginny questioned curiously.

"Well, Cho was trying to defend Marietta, and of course Harry wouldn't have any of it. He said that he thought jinxing the parchment was a good idea, which made Cho absolutely furious. And _then,_ he told her that she had better not start crying in front of him again."

"He didn't!" Ginny exclaimed, her eyes wide and full of mirth.

"He did," Hermione laughed.

"Remind me to pat Harry on the back next time I see him."

"Ginny!" Hermione scolded, albeit half-heartedly. "He shouldn't have said that. It was very insensitive!"

"Who the bloody hell cares? She deserved it," Ginny replied indifferently. "That idiot friend of hers could have gotten us all expelled."

"It's remarkable how alike you and Ron are, you know that?"

"Please don't ever insult me like that again," Ginny stated in mock seriousness.

"Fine, I'll try and do it differently next time," Hermione assured her, lying back down on the grass.

"That's all I'm asking," Ginny said, mimicking Hermione's actions.

The two lay there in silence once more, each absorbed in their own thoughts.

Ginny was right, Hermione decided. Lying down and doing absolutely nothing was quite relaxing. She allowed her mind to empty itself of all its usual stresses and worries and just focused on the sun beating across her face.

Pretty soon however, her mind wandered to its favourite subject, and Hermione smiled to herself slightly as she let it settle there.

Harry would be out with Ron right now on the Quidditch pitch, both taking turns on Ron's broom as Harry's Firebolt was locked away at the moment.

Hermione had always loved watching Harry play Quidditch, even before she had started fancying him. He seemed so happy and carefree when he was in the air, which Hermione couldn't really understand seeing as she hated flying with every fibre of her being. How Quidditch players could remain stable on their brooms for such long periods of time was beyond her. She'd be too afraid of falling off, to be honest.

_Oh well, _Hermione thought. _That's why I don't play Quidditch._

Sitting back up and wrapping her arms around her legs, Hermione looked out over the grounds. Many people were enjoying the lovely spring weather around them, just sitting around talking, laughing, and playing. She even spotted a snogging couple not too far down and immediately turned her head away, embarrassed.

_Honestly! Who just snogs out in the open for everyone to see?_

Hermione greatly disliked public displays of affection. The world did not need to see couples sucking their faces off, thank you very much.

_But what if Harry prefers it that way?_

Hermione's eyed widened. She was appalled at herself for even thinking that. Harry's snogging preferences were, after all, none of her business. Yet, Hermione found herself wishing desperately that they were.

_And just what is that supposed to mean?_

_Oh don't play stupid, you know very well what it means!_

_Wait, why is this such a big deal? We've already established that I fancy Harry...Therefore it's quite natural that I should want to snog him, correct?_

_Correct. _

Hermione brought her hands to her face, attempting to drown out the banter occurring inside her head. It was times like these when she wished she could have someone, anyone, to confide in, and found herself, once again, regretting that her two best friends were both male.

Removing her hands from her face, Hermione glanced at Ginny, who looked as if she could be asleep at the moment.

Ginny was her only real female friend. But could she tell her? Could she tell her that she fancied Harry, the same guy Ginny had fancied for four years? The same guy Hermione had told Ginny to try and get over?

Somehow Hermione didn't think that would bode very well.

Sighing resignedly to herself, Hermione decided to do the only thing that would deem proper in this circumstance: present a hypothetical situation.

"Ginny," Hermione said, poking the girl next to her awake.

She didn't respond.

"Ginny," Hermione repeated, poking her a second time.

Nothing.

"Gin—"

"Hermione, if you bloody poke me one more time, I swear I'll feed you to the Giant Squid," Ginny stated, grabbing Hermione's finger in midair. "_What _do you want?"

Hermione removed her finger from Ginny's grasp and smiled at her. "I just thought we could talk again."

"And just what would you like to talk about?"

"Oh, I don't know...erm...how are you and Michael?" Hermione asked, hoping this topic would help her broach the subject.

Ginny raised an eyebrow, clearly not anticipating this question. "I dunno," she replied, shrugging. "And I mean that...I really don't know how Michael and I are at the moment."

"Why's that?" Hermione asked, genuinely curious.

"I think we're going to call it quits soon," she said. "All we've really been doing lately is arguing, and it's really just not worth it."

"Do you think he feels the same way?" said Hermione.

"I'm not sure. We haven't really talked about it yet, but I know we're going to have to," Ginny answered.

"I'm sorry, Ginny," Hermione said, her voice filling with concern.

"Don't be. I'm not," Ginny stated. "We had a lot of fun, but some things can't last forever. Eventually they'll have to make room for the things that do."

"And...do you have any idea which things those might be?" Hermione asked, attempting to sound casual.

Hermione noticed the slightest blush appear on Ginny's face. It was so slight, in fact, that Hermione may very well have imagined it. But somehow, she didn't think she had.

"I haven't the faintest..." Ginny replied.

Hermione accepted that answer without argument.

"Ginny, can I ask you a question?"

"Er...sure," she said hesitantly.

"Well...If you fancy a guy...do you tell him?"

Ginny looked at her oddly for a moment, taken aback by the question. "It depends..."

"On what?"

"A lot of things," Ginny answered. "For example, whether or not he has a girlfriend already. Whether or not he's an ex of one of your best mates. Whether or not it could ruin your already existing, but sadly platonic relationship..."

Hermione looked up quickly. Ginny was staring at the ground as she said this and thankfully did not see Hermione's eyes go as wide as saucers.

"What do you mean by that last one?" Hermione asked carefully.

"Like if two people were friends and one of them fancied the other. That person might not want to tell the other, unless they were fairly certain the feelings were reciprocated. Otherwise, it would just make their friendship brutally awkward."

Ginny said all this without looking into Hermione's eyes. She even looked slightly saddened by something.

"Why do you ask, anyway?" Ginny said, finally looking up at Hermione.

"Uh...well...I—

Ginny's eyes suddenly grew wide. "You fancy someone, don't you!"

"What? N-no—"

"Yes, yes you do! Hermione you're a terrible liar," Ginny said, grinning madly. "Who is it, then?"

"Ginny, it's _nobody_," she said through gritted teeth, regretting ever bringing up the subject.

"OH MY GOD!"Ginny suddenly shouted.

Hermione jumped back in surprise.

"It's Ron, isn't it?" Ginny whispered excitedly.

"WHAT?" Hermione nearly screamed. "No, no absolutely not."

But Ginny merely continued grinning madly at her.

"Ginny it _really_ isn't," Hermione nearly pleaded, hating herself even more for bringing the subject up.

"Don't worry," Ginny said in a sickeningly soothing manner. "I won't tell a soul."

Hermione threw her head in her hands, groaning loudly. "I don't like him, Ginny," she said in a muffled voice.

_I LIKE HIS BEST FRIEND._

"Hermione," Ginny said, attempting to pry Hermione's hands of her face. "Hermione, look at me."

"I don't want to," she said stubbornly into her hands.

"Hermione," Ginny said again, this time successfully freeing her face. "You know what I was saying before, about when and when not to tell a person you fancy them?"

Hermione remained silent.

"Well," Ginny continued excitedly, not fazed in the slightest, "You don't have to worry about that third example...because...well...I'm fairly certain Ron fancies you back."

"WHAT?" Hermione screamed again.

"I know, I know," Ginny placated. "This is probably coming as quite a shock to you. But trust me, Hermione, he fancies you."

"No," Hermione said fiercely. She had finally had enough. "Listen to me, Ginny. I do not have _any_ romantic feelings for your brother, _whatsoever_. And if you so much as _think_ about telling him that I do, I will ask Hagrid very politely to provide me with a blast-ended skrewt so that I may personally feed you to him."

Ginny stared at her for a moment.

Then broke out into an even wider smile, which caused Hermione to cry out with frustration.

"Hermione, I already _told_ you. Your secret is safe with me."

"Right," Hermione said, standing up and brushing herself off. "I've had enough. I'm off to the library."

"Bye!" Ginny called after her, but Hermione refused to turn around and see that stupid smile plastered on her face.

She was absolutely seething. This was _not_ what she had in mind when creating her hypothetical situation.

* * *

><p>AN: Hi there! I'm sorry that this chapter took so long to get out, but here it is finally! I hope you enjoy! And just a side note, if, perhaps, you haven't read the books in a while, the thing that is causing Harry so much depression and the reason he wants to talk to Sirius is that he just saw his dad being a total jerk to Snape in the pensieve which has altered his entire perception of his father. Harry never actually tells Ron or Hermione this, and I'm thinking Hermione will eventually just let it go. For Harry's sake at least...


	18. Chapter 18

_Some choose to believe that monsters are born as monsters. Others choose to believe that monsters are created as a result of the circumstances in their life. It is simply the age-old nurture versus nature debate. Yet, there really is nothing simple about it. For example, can you really blame someone for being born evil? It just doesn't seem fair, does it? But then, as you look around you, you say to hell with fairness. Evil is evil. On the other hand, if nurture was the answer, you start to question what could have possibly occurred in a person's life to make them turn out a certain way. And no matter what you think of, you can't find anything to justify it. After all, how do you justify evil? _

_I can't. _

_After everything I've seen...I just can't. _

* * *

><p>It was the last week of May. The spring holidays had come and gone, Fred and George Weasley had made their grand escape from the school leaving a giant swamp in the fifth floor corridor behind them, and the chaos in Hogwarts had reached its very highest point.<p>

Which was just fine with everyone else. The only downside was having to hesitate outside of each corridor in fear that someone had released another dungbomb. But really, after the fifth time, one grew more accustomed to the smell.

The final Quidditch match, Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw, was to be taking place that morning, and Ron seemed to have gained some newfound optimism.

"I mean, I can't get any worse, can I?" he told Harry and Hermione grimly over breakfast. "Nothing to lose now, is there?"

They both smiled weakly at Ron.

"You just have to relax," Hermione said, patting his arm reassuringly. She immediately withdrew it, however, as she saw Ginny walking by staring at her with one eyebrow raised.

Ginny had not let go of the idea that Hermione fancied Ron. Since that particular incident during break, they could not go through an entire conversation without Ginny inserting some remark about it. According to her, Hermione was currently in her denial stage of attraction. But as Hermione kept reminding her, there was nothing to deny.

The thing that unnerved Hermione the most, however, was Ginny insisting that Ron had feelings for her. Because this was absolutely absurd.

Hermione sighed to herself. She'd just have to think of a way to convince Ginny that she didn't like Ron. Of course...there was one sure-fire to do that. She could just tell her who she did, in fact, fancy...

"What are you sighing about?"

Hermione looked up startled. Harry was looking at her questioningly, and she noticed that Ron was no longer seated at the table with them.

"Nothing, really," she replied. "Where did Ron go?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "To warm up for the match. Didn't you notice him leave?"

"No, I was...I was thinking about something," she answered.

"Clearly," Harry said, amused, getting up from the table. "Well, come on then, let's head over to the pitch."

"You know," said Hermione as they made their way through the excitable crowd walking down to the stands, "I think Ron might do better without Fred and George around. They never exactly gave him a lot of confidence..."

"You think so?" he said, looking at her. "Well, I sure hope you're right, Hermione."

"If not...well, there's always next year, I suppose," Hermione stated.

Harry chuckled softly, making her heart beat a little faster. "Always the optimist, you are," he said. "But since when do you care so much about Quidditch, anyway?"

"It's not that I don't like Quidditch," she responded. "I just don't like when people treat it as if it were a life or death situation."

"Fair enough," Harry said. "But if you ever say the words 'wonky-faint' again, it _will _turn into a life or death situation."

"That was one time!" Hermione retorted indignantly, shoving Harry in the shoulder. "Anyway, I absolutely detest those _wronski-feints_. They're much too dangerous."

"Maybe...But what's life without a little risk?" Harry said, grinning.

She rolled her eyes. "I think you've taken enough risks in your life, thank you very much. Now enough talk, let's take our seats," she said, clutching his arm and dragging him to one of the uppermost rows.

Hermione hoped he wouldn't notice that she hadn't let go of his arm until they were actually seated. If he did, he didn't say anything about it. Then again, he had no idea that her stomach was doing somersaults the entire way up.

She watched as both teams made their way out onto the pitch. Despite their distance, Hermione could tell by the way Ron was carrying himself that his grim optimism from breakfast had evaporated quite quickly.

"And they're off!" boomed Lee Jordan's voice, as Madam Hooch blew her whistle.

It was only two minutes into the game when a Ravenclaw chaser made his way down to Ron's end of the pitch and managed to score a goal.

Harry and Hermione groaned loudly along with the rest of the Gryffindors.

However, before they could turn their attention back to the match, Hermione heard a hoarse voice whispering her and Harry's name behind them. The two looked around to see Hagrid's enormous bearded face sticking between the seats.

"Listen," he whispered, "can yeh come with me? Now? While everyone's watchin' the match?"

"Er...can't it wait, Hagrid?" asked Harry. "Till the match is over?"

Hermione gave Harry an exasperated look. Obviously it couldn't wait seeing as Hagrid had just squeezed himself through however many rows to get to them.

Harry soon realized this, however, and the two of them followed Hagrid down the stairs and across the long stretch of lawn that led to his cabin.

Much to Harry and Hermione's dismay, however, Hagrid was, in fact, leading them inside the Forbidden Forest.

"Hagrid?" said Harry, fighting his way through thickly knotted brambles. "Where are we going?"

"Bit further," said Hagrid over his shoulder.

Harry and Hermione shared a look before continuing their struggle through the many branches and thickets of thorn to keep up with him.

At one point, Hagrid had stopped so suddenly that Hermione had rammed right into his back and was knocked over backward. However, Harry caught her just before she hit the forest floor.

"You okay?" he asked, as he helped set her back on her feet.

Hermione could only nod wordlessly as she was too busy calming the butterflies that had erupted inside her stomach at Harry's touch.

In the end, this small incident, alone, had made the entire venture into the forest at least somewhat bearable. After all, it wasn't every day she had the chance to be so close to Harry. Even if for only a moment.

As it turned out, Hagrid had been hiding his giant half-brother Grawp in the Forbidden forest. This, of course, provided an explanation to many things, such as the scrapes and bruises on Hagrid's face, as well as the length of time it took him to return from his mission with the giants.

After finally exiting the forest, Harry and Hermione managed to meld themselves in with the rest of the crowd leaving the Quidditch pitch.

"I don't believe him," said Hermione in a very unsteady voice. "I don't believe him. I _really_ don't believe him..."

"Calm down," said Harry.

"Calm down!" she said feverishly. "A giant! A giant in the forest! And we're supposed to give him English lessons! Always assuming, of course, we can get past the herd of murderous centaurs on the way in and out! I—don't—_believe_—him!"

"We haven't got to do anything yet!" Harry tried to reassure her in a quiet voice.

But Hermione wasn't reassured. On the contrary, this was just one more thing she had to worry about.

* * *

><p>"Well, I mean, I'd already let in that one of Davies's, so I wasn't feeling that confident, but I dunno, when Bradley came toward me, just out of nowhere, I thought—<em>you can do this! <em>And I had about a second to decide which way to fly..."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had spread their books out in the shade of a beech tree and sat down while Ron talked them through his first save of the match for what felt like the dozenth time.

It had been a pleasant surprise to find that Gryffindor had miraculously won the match, claiming the Quidditch cup and making Ron an instant hero.

Hermione felt truly happy for him as he babbled on excitedly to both her and Harry. After all, it wasn't everyday he had the chance to revel in his glory.

She could tell that Harry felt similarly, for he responded with the very same amount of enthusiasm each time Ron would go on about the match.

Pretty soon, however, Harry and Hermione were forced to tell Ron the unfortunate truth that they did not, in fact, watch him save any goals because they were too busy being introduced to Hagrid's giant half-brother. To which Ron responded quite simply:

"He's lost his mind."

* * *

><p>Days had melted away rapidly, and Hermione woke up one morning to find that June had arrived. And with June came one thing and one thing only: OWLs.<p>

For the next two weeks, she made a solemn promise that her top and only priority would be to study.

Standing outside Herbology one afternoon, Hermione could overhear Ernie Macmillan interrogating Harry and Ron about their study habits. She quickly rushed over to rescue them both from mental torment.

"How many hours d'you think you're doing a day?" she heard Ernie demand of Harry and Ron, a manic gleam in his eyes.

"I dunno," said Ron. "A few..."

"More or less than eight?"

"Less, I s'pose," said Ron, looking slightly alarmed.

"I'm doing eight," said Ernie, puffing out his chest. "Eight or nine—"

"Harry, Ron, let's go take our seats, shall we?" Hermione suggested, dragging them both away from Ernie.

"Can I just quit now?" Ron asked miserably as they sat down.

"Don't pay him any attention, you're going to do _fine_," she said, attempting to soothe him.

"Hermione, just last night you were going mental saying you were going to fail everything!" Ron exclaimed.

Hermione looked at him sternly. "I was having a mental breakdown. I thought we agreed we weren't going to bring that up again!" she hissed at him.

But Ron merely dropped his head to the table, with Harry patting his shoulder uncertainly.

Hermione could feel her nerves began to increase once again after Ron's proclamation. "You!" she barked at Harry.

Harry looked up startled. "What?" he asked, staggered.

"Why are you so calm about all of this?" she demanded.

"Er...I dunno..."

"Well," Hermione spluttered. "Stop it!"

"Okay..."

"What are you, made of stone?" she said, pushing him in the chest.

Harry had a bewildered expression on his face and looked helplessly at Ron who still had his head resting on the table in misery.

Hermione suddenly shook her head. "I-I'm sorry, Harry," she sighed heavily. "I think I'm going mad..."

She saw Harry relax a bit, realizing she had returned to normal. "Don't worry about it," he said.

But Hermione continued to have these random spurts of madness from time to time as the OWLs drew ever closer. She found herself snapping angrily at anyone for doing the simplest things that distracted her.

Poor Harry was on the end of many of these outbursts, for which she felt incredibly guilty. It wasn't _his_ fault he was so distracting to her.

If he ran his hand through his hair too many times, she snapped at him. If he sat too close to her, she snapped at him. If he stared at her for more than three seconds, she snapped at him. And if he so much as even brushed against her, well, he was in for it, for sure.

She simply refused to allow her mind to wander down Harry Potter lane while the OWLs were so desperately close.

It was currently the eve of their first exam. The Charms theory and practical would be taking place the next day, and Hermione was in the Great Hall for lunch with her eyes glued to _Achievements in Charming_.

"Hermione, I know that's at least the third time you've read that, can't you give it a break?"

She looked up to see that Harry had just arrived and sat down across from her.

"I'm almost done with it!" she practically whined.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Have it your way, then."

"Harry..."

"Hmm?"

"Can you...that is to say...would it be alright if...you tested me on a couple of things?" she asked hesitantly, pushing her book gently towards him.

"No, absolutely not! Not again!"

"Please, Harry?" she begged.

"No."

"I promise I won't insult you this time!"

Harry gave her a pointed look that clearly said he didn't believe her.

"We can take it in turns if you want?" she suggested. "You test me, I test you?"

"I'm good, thank you."

"Harry..."

"Why don't you just ask Ron?" he said, annoyed.

"Ron's not here at the moment, is he?" she said, pushing her book even further towards him.

Harry groaned loudly. "Fine, alright, fine!"

Hermione beamed. "I stopped right there," she said, pointing to her spot in the book.

She had kept her promise and not insulted Harry once. However, just as she had been doing all week, Hermione had begun to grow agitated. She kept snatching the book back from him to check that she had gotten the answer completely right. At one point she grabbed the book so swiftly that she hit Harry hard on the nose with the sharp edge causing him to cry out in pain.

Hermione gasped, clapping both her hands to her mouth.

"Why don't you just do it yourself?" he said firmly, handing the book back to her, his eyes watering.

"Harry, I'm so sorry!"

"Don't worry about it," Harry said, still clearly irritated. "Just please don't ever ask me to help you study again. Not during OWLs week, anyway."

"Deal," she said immediately.

* * *

><p>Once the OWLs had officially begun, Hermione was surprised how quickly the two weeks had flown by. She was also very pleased to note that no major mishaps had occurred during any of her examinations, thus far. There were a few minor ones, of course. She had clambered into the common room thoroughly bad tempered after her Ancient Runes exam, having mistranslated 'ehwaz'. Like a complete and utter idiot she had mixed it up with 'eihwaz' which meant 'defence'.<p>

"Ah well," said Ron lazily after she had poured her heart out to both him and Harry, "that's only one mistake, isn't it, you'll still get—"

"Oh shut up," said Hermione angrily, "it could be the one mistake that makes the difference between a pass and a fail!"

There were only two exams left now: Astronomy and History of Magic. They had taken the Astronomy theory exam that morning and the practical was to take place that night.

However, things had taken a turn for the worst, it seemed.

As the fifth-years were rapidly scribbling away at their star charts, a sudden loud roar was heard, echoing from Hagrid's cabin.

Hermione's eyes immediately darted downwards, and after a moment a loud_ BANG_ sounded from the grounds. To her utter shock, Hermione saw thin beams of red light issuing from unknown wands at Hagrid's massive figure.

"No!" she cried, suddenly.

"My dear!" said Professor Tofty in a scandalized voice. "This is an examination!"

But Hermione, along with everyone else it seemed, had completely ignored him.

Everyone looked as the front doors of the castle opened. The sound of Professor McGonagall's voice could be heard crying out as her dark figure rushed to Hagrid's aid.

Then all at once, four stunners were thrown at her, right in the chest. Hermione heard herself scream out in horror as her most beloved professor landed hard on the ground.

She barely registered Hagrid's roars as he physically knocked down every ministry official present bar Umbridge. But as she attempted to throw one more stunner at him, the half-giant had already fled towards the distant gates and escaped.

There was a long minute's quivering silence as everyone stared open-mouthed at the grounds. Then Professor Tofty's voice said feebly, "Um...five minutes to go everybody..."

Hermione stared down at her star chart. It wasn't completely filled in. Three stars were still very much unlabeled.

But, for the first time in her life...she didn't care.

* * *

><p>AN: This is kind of a short chapter, but it covers a lot of things. I don't really want to call it a filler chapter cause that just makes it sound pointless, but that's kind of what it is. I'm thinking the next chapter will be the end of 5th year, and then 6th year will obviously follow, but more on that later...


	19. Chapter 19

_One of the most difficult things you could ever do is stand up to the person you love. It makes you feel as if you've broken their trust. It makes you feel as if you've betrayed them. And when look at them, their eyes seem so foreign to you. They seem so far away. _

_But you hold your ground. No matter how much it hurts, you hold your ground. Because you want and_ need_ to protect them. And if there's even the slightest chance that they could be in danger, you have to let them know. _

_No matter how much they don't want to hear it. No matter how much it hurts._

* * *

><p>Hermione had nearly completed her History of Magic exam, leaving plenty of time to review all her answers thoroughly, when a loud yell broke out in the hall.<p>

Her head whipped around just in time to see Harry fall sideways off his desk onto the stone floor. He hit the ground, still yelling, as the entire Great Hall erupted with frantic murmurs.

But before Hermione could even register what was happening, Professor Tofty had rushed over to Harry's side and carefully helped him out into the entrance hall.

Hermione caught Ron's eyes across the Great Hall, and he shrugged at her, a worried expression on his face that she knew mirrored her own at that moment.

About five minutes later, Professor Tofty returned, announcing to the hall at large that Harry was indeed okay. "Pressure of examinations, is all!" he stated. "Now everyone back to your papers, please. You have approximately fifteen minutes left!"

But Hermione knew this excuse was absurd. The likelihood of Harry passing out from the stress of examinations was about as miniscule as that of Neville someday going on to play professional Quidditch.

No, Harry had had another nightmare. Even after she warned him countless times that this was dangerous. Even after she practically begged him to ask Snape to continue Occlumency lessons. Even after he told her he'd stopped having these dreams.

But he'd lied to her. And that knowledge cut through Hermione like a knife.

After they had finally been dismissed from the Great Hall, Hermione rushed over to Ron. "We have to go find Harry," she said hurriedly.

"Do you think he's in the hospital wing?" Ron asked.

"I don't know, let's go check."

Just as they stepped out into the entrance hall, however, they spotted him at the top of the marble staircase.

"Harry!" said Hermione at once. "What happened? Are you all right? Are you ill?"

"Where have you been?" demanded Ron.

"Come with me," Harry said quickly. "Come on, I've got to tell you something..."

From the look on Harry's face, Hermione knew that something was not right, and she grew more worried with every step they took.

Harry led them into an empty classroom, slamming the door behind him and turning around to face them.

"Voldemort's got Sirius."

"_What?"_

"How d'you—?"

"Saw it. Just now. When I fell asleep in the exam."

Hermione instantly felt her blood turn cold. A thousand different thoughts seemed to run wild in her mind as Harry explained his dream to them.

_His dream. The ones he isn't supposed to be having. The ones Voldemort may very well know about..._

"How're we going to get there?" Harry asked them.

"G-get there?" said Ron.

"Get to the Department of Mysteries, so we can rescue Sirius!" Harry said loudly.

_No no no no no! _Hermione's mind practically screamed. _This is wrong, this is all wrong! How could Voldemort even get into the Ministry of Magic? How could he get a hold of Sirius? Is this all a trap? It has to be a trap, doesn't it? _

A number of jumbled memories flooded into Hermione's vision, blinding her mind's eye and ringing deafeningly in her ears.

_We've taken what you'll sorely miss. _

"_There you go, Harry!" Ron shouted over the noise. "You weren't being thick at all—you were showing moral fibre!"_

"_...Sirius is the only family I have left..."_

"_...Voldemort's got Sirius..."_

"_...you were showing moral fibre..."_

"_Harry, you prat," said Ron, "you didn't take that song thing seriously, did you? Dumbledore wouldn't have let any of us drown!"_

"_I hope you didn't waste your time down there acting the hero!"_

_We've taken what you'll sorely miss..._

"You know what, I've just thought of something," said Ron's voice, cutting into Hermione's rapidly playing thoughts. "Sirius's brother was a Death Eater, wasn't he? Maybe he told Sirius the secret of how to get the weapon!"

"Yeah—and that's why Dumbledore's been so keen to keep Sirius locked up all the time!" said Harry.

Hermione's heart was beating faster now. Ron was agreeing with Harry. She hated it when they sided against her like this. She hated it when they both looked at her like everything was her fault. She was just trying to prevent Harry from doing anything dangerous. Didn't he know that?

"Look, I'm sorry," she cried, "but neither of you are making sense, and we've got no proof for any of this, no proof Voldemort and Sirius are even there—"

"Hermione, Harry's seen them!" said Ron, rounding on her.

Hermione looked over at Harry. She could practically feel the anger and impatience emanating off of him, and she wished so desperately that she did not have to say what she was about to say.

He was going to hate her. She just knew it.

But she had to do it. She had to try and make him understand that this could all be a trap.

"Okay," Hermione said, frightened yet determined, "I've just got to say this..."

"What?"

Hermione gathered up all the courage she had as Harry's eyes bored straight into hers.

"You...This isn't a criticism, Harry! But you do...sort of...I mean—don't you think you've got a bit of a—a—_saving-people-thing_?"

He glared at her. "And what's that supposed to mean, a 'saving-people-thing'?"

"Well...you..." She felt more apprehensive than ever. "I mean...last year, for instance...in the lake...during the Tournament...you shouldn't have...I mean you didn't need to save that little Delacour girl...You got a bit...carried away..."

Hermione could see a spark of anger flash before Harry's eyes.

"...I mean, it was really great of you and everything," she said quickly, feeling positively petrified at the look on his face. "Everyone thought it was a wonderful thing to do—"

"That's funny," said Harry through gritted teeth, "because I definitely remember Ron saying I'd wasted time _acting the hero_...is that what you think this is? You reckon I want to act the hero again?"

She felt a sickening lurch inside her stomach. How could he possibly think that?

"No, no, no!" she said, aghast. "That's not what I mean at all!"

"Well spit out what you've got to say, because we're wasting time here!" Harry shouted.

It took all Hermione had to explain to Harry exactly what she meant. How Voldemort knew that Harry was the type of person to run to Sirius's aid. How he most likely just wanted to get Harry to the Department of Mysteries. How Harry's dream could have been just that: a dream. How he should have never seen all this in the first place.

"IF YOU THINK I'M JUST GOING TO ACT LIKE I HAVEN'T SEEN—"

"Sirius told you there was nothing more important than you learning to close your mind!" She said, her voice filled with emotion as she desperately tried to hold back the tears she felt stinging her eyes.

"WELL, I EXPECT HE'D SAY SOMETHING DIFFERENT IF HE KNEW WHAT I'D JUST—"

But before Harry could finish his sentence, the classroom door opened revealing a curious looking Ginny, followed closely by Luna.

"Hi," said Ginny uncertainly. "We recognized Harry's voice—what are you yelling about?"

"Never you mind," said Harry roughly.

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "There's no need to take that tone with me," she said coolly. "I was only wondering whether I could help."

"Well you can't," said Harry shortly.

Hermione flinched slightly at his harsh tone. She just couldn't seem to convince Harry of anything at the moment. What she needed was proof. She needed to prove to Harry that Sirius was safe at Grimmauld Place.

"Wait," she said suddenly. "Wait...Harry, they _can_ help."

Harry and Ron looked at her.

"Listen," she said urgently, "Harry, we need to establish whether Sirius really has left Headquarters—"

"I've told you, I saw—"

"Harry, I'm begging you, please!"

Her voice cracked slightly, but she looked straight into Harry's eyes, pleading with him.

"Please," she continued, "let's just check that Sirius isn't at home before we go charging off to London—if we find out he's not there then I swear I won't try and stop you, I'll come, I'll d-do whatever it takes to try and save him—"

"Sirius is being tortured NOW!" shouted Harry. "We haven't got time to waste—"

"But if this is a trick of V-Voldermort's—Harry, we've got to check, we've got to—"

"How?" Harry demanded. "How're we going to check?"

There was only one way they could check. Only one fireplace in the entire castle that wasn't being watched.

About ten minutes later, Harry and Hermione were hidden under the Invisibility Cloak on their way to Umbridge's office for what Hermione felt was a suicide attempt.

Once in the office, they immediately pulled off the cloak. Hermione hurried over to the window, peering down into the grounds with her wand out while Harry dashed over to the fireplace.

She waited, listening for the warning signal (a loud chorus of 'Weasley Is Our King') as if her life depended on it. Which, in some ways, it did.

She wished she could know what was going on with Harry at the moment, and silently prayed that he would find Sirius lazing away at the kitchen table, reading the paper and drinking a cup of coffee.

Harry had only been in the fire for about three minutes, however, when the office door banged open.

Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat as she saw Umbridge clamber in, her eyes wide with menace, followed by Malfoy and Millicent Bulstrode. Umbridge spotted Hermione at once and looked at her strangely for a moment before her gaze landed on Harry whose head was still in the fireplace.

The sickeningly malicious smile that spread across Umbridge's face made Hermione want to vomit.

"Miss Bulstrode," Umbridge ordered. "Kindly restrain Miss Granger."

Before Hermione could raise any sort of objection, she was pushed back against the wall rather painfully and held there by Millicent.

"Shall I grab Potter, Professor?" Malfoy asked with a gleam in his eye.

"No, no, Mr. Malfoy," Umbridge stated. "I'll take care of Potter."

Hermione wanted to scream out to Harry, to warn him, but what could he do now? What could any of them do now? They were trapped and it was all her fault.

She watched in horror as Umbridge grabbed a patch of Harry's hair and pulled him roughly out of the fireplace, causing him to choke on a mouthful of ash.

She continued dragging him backward by the hair and was now bending his neck back as far as it would go as though she was going to slit his throat.

Hermione fought as hard as she could against Millicent's hold, but she simply was no match for the large girl.

"You think," Umbridge whispered to Harry, bending his neck back even farther, "that after two nifflers I was going to let one more foul, scavenging little creature enter my office without my knowledge? Take his wand," she barked at Malfoy. "Hers too..."

Hermione held onto her wand with all the strength she could muster, but as Millicent wrapped her hand tightly around both her wrists, Hermione was forced to let go.

She felt absolutely defenceless without her wand as she stood there, still trapped against the wall.

"I want to know why you are in my office," said Umbridge, shaking the fist clutching Harry's hair so that he staggered.

"With whom have you been communicating?"

"No one—"

"_Liar!" _

Hermione emitted a strangled cry as Umbridge threw Harry from her so that he slammed hard into the desk.

She had never felt such anger in her entire life. The hatred for the woman before her made the blood in her very veins boil.

There was a commotion outside and several large Slytherins entered, each gripping Ron, Ginny, Luna, and Neville. All four of them had been gagged, and, if possible, the situation felt even more hopeless.

Umbridge continued attempting to force the truth out of Harry, but he would not comply. She resorted to sending Malfoy to fetch Snape for what Hermione could only assume would be Veritaserum.

Just then, Hermione mentally kicked herself quite hard for not remembering that Snape was part of the Order. They had been too frantic with the news that McGonagall had been moved to St. Mungo's to realize that there was still one Order member left at the school.

"You are on probation!" shrieked Umbridge as Snape informed her that he would not be able to provide a fresh brew of Veritaserum for another month.

Snape merely bowed before turning to exit the room.

Hermione could hear her heart pounding in her ears as she watched their very last hope leave them.

However, Harry seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "He's got Padfoot!" he shouted. "He's got Padfoot at the place where it's hidden!"

Hermione knew that Snape would be forced to feign ignorance towards Harry's outburst with Umbridge in the room, but a part of her was still left wondering whether or not he had, in fact, understood.

Only time would tell, she supposed.

"Very well...very well...I am left with no alternative...This is more than a matter of school discipline...This is an issue of Ministry security...Yes...yes"

There was somewhat of a deranged look in Umbridge's eye. Hermione swallowed hard, terrified of what the woman was planning.

"You are forcing me, Potter...I do not want to," said Umbridge, "but sometimes circumstances justify the use...I am sure the Minister will understand that I had no choice..."

Hermione was breathing faster now as Umbridge edged towards Harry slowly.

"The Cruciatus Curse ought to loosen your tongue," said Umbridge quietly.

"No!" shrieked Hermione immediately.

She couldn't let that woman hurt Harry. She couldn't let her cause him such pain.

This was all her own fault! It was hurt fault that she had brought Harry here. It was her fault for not believing him. And it was her fault for not trusting him.

She hated herself because it was all her fault.

Slowly and agonizingly, Hermione watched as Umbridge raised her wand to point it directly over Harry's heart.

Hermione frantically searched through her mind for a way out of the mess that she had created.

_Just think, Hermione. Think. Think. Think. Think. Think. Think. _

"_Cruc—"_

"NO!" Hermione shouted again. Knowing that she was about to cause a great upheaval, she took a deep breath in, channelling what little performance abilities she possessed. "No—Harry—Harry, we'll have to tell her!"

"No way!" yelled Harry at once.

Hermione forced herself to continue, despite the treacherous feeling in the pit of her stomach that arose from Harry's tone of utter shock and disgust.

"We'll have to, Harry, she'll force it out of you anyway, what's...what's the point...?"

She let out few racking sobs that, if the situation were different, would be almost laughable.

They seemed to be working, however, as Millicent instantly pulled away from her, looking disgusted.

"Well, well, well!" said Umbridge, looking triumphant. "Little Miss Question-All is going to give us some answers! Come on then, girl, come on!"

"Er—my—nee—no!" shouted Ron through his gag.

"I'm—I'm sorry everyone," said Hermione, her face in her hands. "But—I can't stand it—"

"That's right, that's right, girl!" said Umbridge, seizing her by the shoulders. "Now then...with whom was Potter communicating just now?"

Fighting the urge to punch Umbridge very hard in the nose, Hermione continued on with her charade. "Well," she gulped into her hands, "well, he was _trying_ to speak to Professor Dumbledore..."

In all honesty, she had absolutely no idea where she was going with any of this. Umbridge had demanded to know where Dumbledore was, but Hermione insisted they hadn't a clue.

"We...we wanted to tell him it's r-ready!" choked Hermione.

"What's ready?" demanded Umbridge, as she grabbed Hermione's shoulders again and shook her slightly.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Ron struggling aggressively against the Slytherin's hold on him.

"The..." she said, her throat feeling dry. "The weapon."

Looking up, Hermione caught a glimpse of the Forbidden Forest outside Umbridge's window and a sudden thought occurred to her.

"Er—are you sure this is the right way?" Harry asked her pointedly, as they trudged through the forest some time later, leading Umbridge to the 'weapon'.

"Oh yes," she said in a steely voice, crashing through the undergrowth with what she knew was a wholly unnecessary amount of noise. "It's a bit further in!"

"Hermione, keep your voice down," Harry muttered. "Anything could be listening in here..."

But this was precisely Hermione's plan. She had been leading them to the part of the forest that she knew was inhabited by Centaurs. The last time they were in the forest with Hagrid, the Centaurs were ready to kill any human being that ventured down their path. But they had refrained because they saw that Harry and Hermione were still 'innocent foals'.

It was this knowledge that led her further and further into the forest. However, Hermione still wasn't completely sure what it was she was doing. If Umbridge were to insult any of the Centaurs, they would surely have her killed. But...did she really want Umbridge _dead_?

_She was about to Crucio Harry!_

_Yes, but she wasn't about to kill him. _

_Well, I wouldn't put it past her!_

_You're not a murderer, Hermione. _

_..._

_What other choice do I have?_

Hermione was beginning to feel sick. Everything had happened so fast and she'd just panicked. But she couldn't stand by and watch Harry get tortured!

_No, they won't kill her! As long as Harry and I are there, they'll let us all go. But not before Umbridge runs screaming from the forest. She'll be frightened. She'll forget all about Harry and the weapon and she'll run away. _

"Who are you?" said a voice suddenly.

Hermione felt her heart stop. She heard Umbridge whimpering at her side, her wand trembling violently as she pointed it at the advancing centaur.

"I am Dolores Umbridge! Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic and Headmistress and High Inquisitor of Hogwarts!"

"You are from the Ministry of Magic?" the centaur named Magorian asked.

"That's right!" said Umbridge in a high voice. "So be very careful! By the laws laid down by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, any attack by half-breeds such as yourselves on a human—"

"_What_ did you call us?" shouted a wild-looking black centaur.

Hermione desperately wanted to perform a silencing charm on Umbridge. Many of the centaurs' hooves were digging menacingly into the ground, ready to attack at any second.

"Don't call them that!" she said furiously, but Umbridge did not appear to have heard her as she continued on.

"Be quiet!" Hermione tried again, as she saw growing anger flash in the centaurs' eyes, but it was too late—Umbridge pointed her wand at Magorian and screamed, "_Incarcerous!" _

He gave a cry of rage and reared onto his hind legs, attempting to break free of the ropes around his body.

Hermione felt tears pierce her eyes as she saw the centaur struggle. How could anyone be so cruel?

Her sorrow was quickly replaced by fear, however, as the rest of the centaurs suddenly prepared to charge towards them.

She felt Harry grab her quickly and pull her to the ground.

_That's it_, she thought,_ we're done for._

Hermione briefly wondered why Harry didn't just throw her over to the stampede. After all, they were both going to die because of her. And Sirius could very well be dying in the Department of Mysteries at that moment, as well.

As it would turn out, however, they were not meant to die just then, for out of nowhere Grawp stormed into the clearing causing such fear and disarray that Harry and Hermione were able to make an escape.

It would also turn out that Ginny, Neville, and Luna would accompany Harry, Ron, and Hermione to the Ministry of Magic via Thestrals.

They were currently standing in a large room in the Department of Mysteries filled with endless rows of small glass orbs. Harry led them all the way down to row ninety-seven, but as they reached, one thing became blatantly clear: Sirius was nowhere to be found.

"Harry?" Ron called, suddenly.

"What?"

"Have you seen this?"

Ron was staring at one of the dusty orbs on the shelf curiously.

"It's—it's got your name on it," said Ron.

"Harry, I don't think you should touch it," said Hermione sharply as he reached out for the orb.

But, of course, he didn't listen to her.

As his hand wrapped around it, however, a drawling voice suddenly broke the silence. "Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me."

All six of their heads whipped around instantly, and Hermione counted twelve dark, hooded figures standing behind Lucius Malfoy.

Hermione was all out of ideas. How in Merlin's name were they supposed to get out of this one?

She gasped suddenly as she felt Harry's foot press down hard against her toes.

"What?" she whispered.

Her heart was beating nervously in her chest. "_What_?" she asked again as Harry still hadn't answered her.

Barely moving his lips, he hissed, "Smash shelves."

Hermione figured this was meant to serve as a diversion and quickly passed down the message to Ginny who was standing next to her.

The five of them waited on edge for some sort of signal from Harry.

"NOW!" he yelled suddenly, and immediately they all shouted "_REDUCTO_!" with their curses flying in five different directions.

"RUN!" Harry yelled.

They all took off after Harry, running as fast as their legs could carry them, ducking the spells and curses that were being hurtled their way. Hermione chanced a glance behind her and noticed that Neville was trailing slightly. To her horror she saw a Death Eater point his wand directly at Neville's back.

"STUPEFY!" Hermione screamed, hitting the Death Eater squarely in the chest. She grabbed Neville by the arm, urging him to run faster.

Hermione spotted Harry up ahead dodging a jet of light and ran, if possible, even faster towards him.

"_Colloportus!_" Hermione gasped, after her and Neville made it inside the room with the time turners. The door sealed immediately.

"Where—where are the others?" gasped Harry.

Hermione felt her stomach drop. She thought Ron, Ginny, and Luna had been ahead of them!

"They must have gone the wrong way!" she said, terrified.

"Listen!" whispered Neville.

They could hear footsteps outside the door and then Lucius Malfoy's voice speaking to what sounded like two other Death Eaters.

Hermione looked up fearfully at Harry. "What do we do?" she whispered desperately.

"Well, we don't stand here waiting for them to find us, for a start," said Harry. "Let's get away from this door..."

They started running, but all too soon they heard a rough voice utter, "_Alohomora!"_

Harry, Hermione, and Neville dove quickly out of sight.

"They might've run straight through to the hall," said the rough voice.

"Check under the desks," said another.

Hermione could hear her heart pounding madly in her ears.

"_STUPEFY!_" Harry yelled suddenly, hitting the nearest Death Eater.

The second one however, now had his wand pointed directly at Hermione.

"_Avada—"_

Harry had immediately launched himself across the floor and grabbed the Death Eater around the knees as Neville shouted an _"EXPELLIARMUS!"_

Hermione let out a shaky breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. But there was no time to waste. The three of them sped out of the room in search of Ron, Ginny, and Luna.

With two more Death Eaters hot on their heels, they burst into a small, dark, cluttered office and slammed the door behind them. Before Hermione could seal it, however, the door had burst open again and the Death Eaters had come hurtling inside.

"WE'VE GOT HIM!" yelled the Death Eater nearest Harry, "IN AN OFFICE OFF—"

"_Silencio!" _cried Hermione at once as Harry immediately stunned the second Death Eater.

"Well done, Ha—"

But before Hermione could utter another word, the Death Eater she had just silenced, made a sudden slashing movement with his wand from which flew a streak of what looked like purple flame. It hit her hard in the chest, and she seemed to fall as if in slow motion to the ground.

The very last thing she heard was Harry screaming out her name. And then everything went black.

* * *

><p>Hermione could feel the light of the sun beating against her eyelids, but she didn't want to open them just yet. She was extremely exhausted, and as her mind grew less foggy, the soreness of her body began to really hit her. She slowly opened her eyes, squinting from the light. Looking up at the walls and ceiling around her, she realized she was in the hospital wing. But how did she get there?<p>

Hermione turned her head slightly to the side and saw that someone was sleeping in the hospital bed next to her. She caught a glimpse of the fiery red hair and instantly knew it was Ron.

Lifting her head off the pillow, she also noticed Harry, his head in his hands, sitting in a chair in between both her and Ron's beds.

Suddenly, all the memories of the Department of Mysteries came rushing back to her. But she still had no idea how they had gotten out of the Ministry of Magic, or more importantly why both her and Ron were now laying in the hospital wing.

Though Harry's face was hidden, Hermione could clearly see that he was greatly distressed about something.

She couldn't seem to summon enough energy to speak, however, so she lay there, content to simply stare at him for what could have been hours, but was, in reality, probably only a couple of minutes.

Hermione found herself wishing that Harry would just lift his head up. She wanted so badly to look into his eyes and see him looking back at her.

But she was so tired. So tired that she could just fall back asleep...

"Hermione?"

She lazily opened up her eyes at the sound of her name.

"Hermione?" the voice said again, this time louder.

"Hmm?"

She felt someone take her hand gently and turned her head to find Harry at her side.

"Hermione, you're awake," he said, relief evident in his voice.

"Harry..." she croaked.

He smiled softly at her as she spoke his name. But even through Hermione's stupor, she was still able to catch that his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. Something was wrong.

Her throat felt too dry to speak, and she swallowed quite painfully.

"Here," Harry said, seeming to sense her discomfort. He handed her a glass of water which Hermione took gratefully.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice still quite raspy.

Harry looked away for a moment, which left Hermione feeling slightly disappointed. His green eyes were giving her immense comfort, after all.

"You got hit by a curse from one of the Death Eaters named—"

"No, Harry...what _happened?_" Hermione asked.

"I don't understand what you mean..." Harry said, still not looking at her.

"I think you do," she insisted.

He sighed heavily, but began explaining to her everything that had occurred after she fell unconscious.

But he paused halfway through and didn't seem to want to continue.

"Harry...?" she said hesitantly. "Harry, what's wrong?"

But Harry continued to remain silent. She thought she saw his eyes glisten, but it could have been the light.

After a long moment, he finally spoke. "He's...he's gone," Harry said in a strangled voice.

"Who, Harry?" Hermione whispered breathlessly.

She saw deep sadness reflect in Harry's eyes as he looked at her. And as much as she wanted to hear his answer, she feared it all the same.

"Sirius," he stated.

Hermione felt her eyes brimming with tears. She fought hard to hold them back, but as she was already so weak at the moment, she failed miserably.

"Harry... " she whispered shakily, "Harry, I'm so sorry."

He was looking determinedly away from her, but she noticed him reach behind his glasses to wipe his eye once or twice. He didn't say anything for a long time, but merely sat there, staring at the wall.

It killed Hermione inside to see him like this. It absolutely killed her. She wished there was something, anything that could take his pain away. But she knew there wasn't. And on top of all that, she suddenly realized that he was blaming himself.

"Harry...you're not thinking this is your fault, are you?" she asked. "Because it's not!"

She saw him clench his jaw as he turned to look at her. "But it is, Hermione."

"No, Harry!" she said, forcefully, lifting herself up on the bed and wincing slightly in the process. "Everyone knew what they were getting themselves into!"

"Oh, don't give me that, Hermione!" Harry exclaimed. "I'm sick and tired of hearing that excuse. I risked all your necks because I was too thick to realize that Voldemort was pulling me into another one of his little traps again. And now you and Ron are both laying here in the hospital wing and Sirius is dead and it's all my fault, Hermione. It's all _my_ fault!"

"Harry, you couldn't have known—"

"_You_ did!" Harry retorted. "You knew, and you tried to warn me. But I didn't listen!"

"Why didn't I just listen?" he added in a tortured voice.

Hermione felt tears prickling her eyes again. "Harry, please...please don't blame yourself for this. Sirius would never want you to do such a thing," she pleaded, beginning to feel slightly worn out from the conversation.

Harry's face visibly softened as he seemed to note the exhaustion in Hermione's voice. "I'm sorry. For everything...Especially for this," he said, gesturing at her hospital bed.

"I thought you said a Death Eater cursed me, Harry," she said in mock confusion.

"Very funny," Harry said, giving her a small smile.

Hermione immediately returned it, feeling a small trace of comfort for the first time since she had awoken.

"Does it hurt much?" he asked, seriously.

"The pain comes and goes..." she replied. Which was true to a certain extent. It came...it just didn't go.

Harry gave her a look that clearly said he didn't believe her, but before he could open his mouth to argue, a tutting Madam Pomfrey emerged from out of her office.

"Mr. Potter!" she scolded. "I told you to come get me the second Miss Granger woke up!"

Harry winced slightly, obviously having forgotten. "I-I'm sorry—"

"I don't want to hear your apologies. I need you out of here so I can take a look at her. Out! Out! Out!" she said, shooing Harry out the door.

Hermione couldn't help but giggle slightly at the alarmed look on Harry's face.

"That boy will be the death of me," Madam Pomfrey muttered as she took out her wand and started fussing over Hermione.

"Yes...mine too," Hermione said quietly to herself.

* * *

><p>LONG BUT RATHER IMPORTANT AN: First of all I just want to apologize for using so many book quotes. I know how tedious it can be to read through them since I'm a fanfiction reader myself. But I just felt that this particular part of the story is rather essential in more than one way, characterization being the biggest one.

Now for the important part: As I move on to 6th year I felt I should warn you now that I WILL be following canon. I'm assuming you've all read the 6th book therefore I don't really need to elaborate. But why am I doing this you ask? Well, because I really care about this story. And I want it to be as real as possible and in real life, things don't always come easy. So...if you want to continue on with this story, you're going to have to be a little patient.

Having said this, 6th year will move much quicker than 5th year. Honestly, I just can't wait for the day when they're out of Hogwarts and Voldemort is defeated.

Finally, I would just like to assure everyone that I will NOT be waiting till the end of this story to get Harry and Hermione together.

That is all. Thank you and good day.


	20. Chapter 20

_Some people lose their parents to death. And it is great tragedy indeed. However, others lose their parents to life. And this is an even greater tragedy. __But how can this be so, you may ask. How can a person live with their mother or father their entire life and still not be able to feel their presence? How can the dead sometimes be more alive than the living?_

_I can tell you how. __It is because they are not there. It is because they are not present. I can tell you how because I know what it's like to feel that presence. Because __I was one of the lucky ones. _

_My mother was my best friend. After all, what greater friend can you find than the one who has been with you from the very beginning? Right by your side. Through your best and worst days. Supporting you, no matter where you go in life. No matter what decisions you make. My mother was there. She was always there. And for that reason, she will always be alive._

* * *

><p>"Mum! Dad!"<p>

Hermione ran towards her parents and immediately launched herself into her mother's arms.

Mrs. Granger chuckled softly. "We've missed you terribly, Hermione," she said, smoothing down her daughter's hair affectionately.

As she stayed there, taking in her mother's familiar scent, Hermione felt her eyes began to water slightly. The comfort and relief she felt in this moment was simply overwhelming. "You have no idea," she replied softly.

"Well, I guess we've always known who the favourite was."

Hermione turned to her father, grinning widely. "Jealousy doesn't suit you, Dad."

"Everything suits me, dear," Mr. Granger stated, causing Hermione to laugh. "Come here, you."

Hermione was swiftly brought into a tight embrace by her father, but had to squirm out of it as he began ruffling her hair. "Dad!" she cried. "My hair is wild enough as it is, thank you."

"Just the way I love it," he replied, kissing her softly on the head before leaning down to pick up her trunk. "Well, come on then, let's head over to the car. Hermione, you bring Crookshanks."

Before leaving the platform, Hermione took a final look behind her. She'd already said all her goodbyes, but she was hoping to catch one last glimpse of a certain dark-haired wizard.

"Hermione?"

She turned around to see her mother staring at her curiously. "Let's go, Mum," Hermione said, putting on a smile and leading them out of the platform.

"So, how was your year?" Mrs. Granger asked, looking up at Hermione in the car mirror.

"It was...well...to be completely honest..." Hermione paused, looking up into her mother's knowing eyes. "It was rather dreadful."

She'd already told her parents about the situation at Hogwarts through her many letters. Of course, none of them contained much detail, but she was quite certain her mother had been able to deduce a fair amount on her own.

"Was it because of that witch?" Mr. Granger asked.

Hermione had to smile. The word 'witch' held very different connotations to her father than it did to her. In fact, on more than one occasion, Mr. Granger had remarked that he didn't particularly like the idea of his daughter being considered a witch, preferring to call her a wizard instead, or simply: magical.

In reference to Umbridge, however, Mr. Granger found the word perfectly acceptable.

"Well, she had a large part to do with it, of course," Hermione answered. "But...there's more to it than that."

"What is it, dear?" her mum asked with a worried expression.

Hermione wasn't quite sure how to answer. She had never completely shared the details of her adventures with Harry and Ron to her parents. They would occasionally receive a letter home from Dumbledore, yes, but those would never divulge too much information, either. And for that she was extremely grateful, for they would have surely worried their heads off.

For now, her parents knew that there was a dark wizard who had returned after being absent from the country for almost fourteen years. And that it was Harry, himself, who had witnessed his return. But, as she explained to her parents, the Ministry was refusing to believe that Voldemort was back, claiming that both Harry and Dumbledore had simply gone mad.

However, as Hermione now explained to her parents, the Minister could no longer hold on to this delusion, for Voldemort had made an appearance at the Ministry, itself.

Though, the fact that Hermione and her friends were present during this appearance was not something she saw fit to mention.

"That must have come as a major blow to that Minister of yours," Mr. Granger remarked.

"Yes, well, he's been sacked," Hermione said.

"What's going to happen now that this man, this...Voldemort, is back?" her mum asked.

Hermione hesitated slightly before answering. "I don't really know, Mum," she said softly. "There was a war before...There's probably going to be a war now."

"Hermione..." her dad said slowly, but she immediately cut him off.

"Dad, if you're about to suggest that I don't return to Hogwarts next year, then you're wasting your time," Hermione stated, feeling slightly guilty at the harshness in her tone. "Because it's not just the Wizarding world that's in danger, anymore. It's everyone."

"What do you mean, Hermione?" her mother asked, seriously.

"I mean muggles. They don't know. The only reason you know is because of me, and unfortunately that puts you in even more danger," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "But that also means I can protect you. Dumbledore can protect you. And he will."

"Besides, I can't leave Harry...not after everything he's been through," Hermione added, shifting her gaze out the car window.

"Hermione," her mother said gently. "What's happened to Harry?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her parents exchange a concerned look, but it was a long moment before she finally spoke up again. "His Godfather was murdered."

Mrs. Granger's hand immediately flew up to her mouth in shock. "Murdered?" she asked, horrified. "But...how? Why? By who?"

"He was there at the Ministry fighting against Voldemort and his followers. He was killed by his own cousin."

Her proclamation was met with a heavy silence.

"I didn't realize it was this serious, Hermione," her father said gravely. "Please send Harry our best regards."

"I will," she responded.

"Hermione..." Mrs. Granger started softly. "You told me once that Harry's parents were murdered when he was a baby. And now...now his godfather's been murdered as well. And it's all because of this man named Voldemort?"

Hermione nodded.

Mrs. Granger sighed deeply. "I cannot even begin to imagine the pain that boy must be feeling."

Familiar tears began to well up in Hermione's eyes. She wished desperately that she could see Harry right now. Just to know he was okay. Just to know the Dursleys weren't giving him trouble.

And yet, even though she absolutely hated the idea of Harry being alone at a time like this, she also knew there was nothing she, or anyone could say that would bring him comfort. Harry needed to be alone. It was just the type of person he was. Because he would never in a million years break down in front of anyone.

* * *

><p>"Hermione?"<p>

Hermione looked up from the book she was currently reading. "Come in, Mum," she called out.

She saw her mother peak in from around the door of her bedroom, and then make her way over to Hermione's bed.

Closing her book and setting it on her bedside table, Hermione turned to her mother curiously. "What is it, Mum?"

"Well, I just thought we could talk," Mrs. Granger replied.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Sure... but why?"

"What? I can't request a conversation with my daughter without having my motives questioned?"

Hermione chuckled. "No, Mum, it's just that we already had our whole 'school' talk a couple of days ago. And you don't usually knock on my bedroom door when you're looking for conversation. You call my name up the staircase and beg me to come down because you're bored and tired of talking to Dad. Oh, and you closed the door behind you," she added, nodding her head at the door. "And you always say how you don't like it when I close my bedroom door during the day because it makes it seem like I'm imprisoning myself."

Mrs. Granger stared incredulously at her daughter. "You are much too perceptive for your own good."

"Why, thank you," Hermione replied, smiling. "So, what is it, then?"

Mrs. Granger sighed. "Well, Hermione, I'm not quite sure how to open this whole conversation up..."

Hermione looked at her in confusion. "Is something wrong?" she asked seriously.

"No, no, nothing like that, dear."

"Okay...then...what's the problem?"

Mrs. Granger sighed again and, to Hermione's surprise, smiled amusedly. "You know, after all these years, I would have hoped this conversation would start a little smoother..."

Something suddenly clicked into Hermione's brain, and she could feel her cheeks began to heat up. "Oh my God," she exclaimed. "Mum, we already had that conversation!"

"I know, Hermione, but you were young then and hardly interested," her mother said, patiently.

"What makes you think I'm interested now?" she asked, horrified.

"No one, dear, but...well...you are turning seventeen this year—"

"I'm waiting until I'm married!" Hermione cried out instantly.

Mrs. Granger seemed to visibly relax. "And you're sure about that, dear?"

"Yes," she replied adamantly.

"Oh, thank heavens. That was much easier than I thought it would be," her mother stated, placing a hand over her heart. "However, we're still not finished here."

Hermione narrowed her eyes warily. "What else is there to discuss?"

"Well," Mrs. Granger began, "can you honestly tell me that no boy has caught your eye in the five years that you've been at Hogwarts?"

After wondering for many years, Hermione had just now affirmed that one could, in fact, choke on air. She was not overly pleased with this revelation.

"Are you okay, honey?" Mrs. Granger asked.

"Yes, I'm fine," she said, clearing her throat.

"Splendid. So, have I heard of him before?" Her mother then paused slightly. "It is a 'him', isn't it?"

Hermione groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Mother, I am not attracted to girls," she said in a muffled voice.

"Well then just tell me, dear, don't you fancy anyone at all?"

Sighing loudly, Hermione nodded her head. There was no point lying to her mother. She always cracked her in the end.

Mrs. Granger's eyes lit up. She took her daughter's hands in hers and smiled mischievously. "What's he like?"

Despite being momentarily stunned by her mother's behaviour, Hermione found herself feeling slightly more relaxed. "Well...he's...he's really nice..." she began lamely.

"Honey, if niceness was the only factor in a relationship, I would have married Timothy Spuckle and had twelve very freckly children."

"Hermione Spuckle...it doesn't quite roll off the tongue, does it?" Hermione mused.

"No, I'm afraid not," Mrs. Granger stated. "But that is beside the point. The point, my darling, is that I am quite positive your lad has many more qualities about him that you find much more attractive."

"You're right, of course," Hermione said, trying to hold back the smile that was fighting to form on her face.

"Go on, then," her mother urged.

"Well..."

"Just say what you feel, Hermione..."

"Well, okay...he's extremely caring and brave and...he has such a big heart, he really does. But it's even more than that it's...he makes me feel...like I'm important, like I'm special or something. I mean, I don't even think he realizes it. But that's just the kind of person he is. He doesn't hurt me the way other people do. He's never hurt me. He's never caused me any pain. He's never made me feel small."

Hermione's voice cracked slightly, but either her mum didn't notice or she pretended not to. And so, she continued.

"He just makes me feel good, I guess. I can be myself around him. I can be comfortable. And I've never felt like that before. I can't even explain it. It's like...It's like I feel safe when I'm with him. Is that completely bonkers? I realize I sound pretty ridiculous, don't I?" Hermione said, staring down into her hands.

"Hardly," Mrs. Granger said with a soft smile. "But you know...it would be just the smallest bit disappointing if this young man was completely horrid-looking..."

Hermione broke out into a wide grin. "Oh, you needn't worry about that."

"Oh, please, do tell."

"Well," Hermione began, looking at her mother slightly mischievously, "He has this great smile. And these _amazing_ eyes. I swear they make my heart flutter like mad sometimes. And his laugh is absolutely contagious, at least to me, anyway. He's not a big, burly type or anything. Quite the contrary, actually, he's pretty scrawny. But I prefer it that way. And let's see...Oh! I absolutely adore his hair. It always looks so smooth and silky, but it sticks out all over the place. I don't think it could ever lie flat, yet somehow I find that completely endearing. And well, I mean sure...he's not exactly ruggedly handsome, or anything, but I happen to find him quite attractive."

As soon as Hermione concluded her rapid spiel, she burst out laughing. "I cannot believe I just said all that!"

Mrs. Granger beamed at her daughter. "And to think, you started out with 'he's nice'."

Hermione smiled embarrassedly, shaking her head. "Oh Merlin...you must think I've gone mental."

"Hardly."

"You're supposed to say that. You're my mother."

"What makes you think that would ever stop me? Trust me, you're perfectly normal," Mrs. Granger affirmed.

"But who tells their mum all those things! Shouldn't I be having slumber parties where I invite a bunch of girls over so we can share all our secrets to each other?" Hermione asked. "No, of course not, I had to go and make friends with two emotionally debilitated boys."

"I suppose that means you're stuck with me, then," Mrs. Granger said. "You can always try going to your father, as well."

"Please...I'd rather go to Neville Longbottom," Hermione stated bluntly.

"Well he does seem like a very nice boy—"

"Yes, so did Timothy Spuckle."

"Touché."

Mrs. Granger leaned over to place a kiss on her daughter's head. "Anyway, I'm really glad that we had this little talk. Remember, you can always come to me about anything, do you understand?"

Hermione nodded. "I know, Mum. I love you."

"I love you, too, sweetheart."

And with that Mrs. Granger stood up to leave. Before she walked out of the door, however, she turned around to face Hermione.

"By the way, when exactly do you plan on telling Harry?"

Both Hermione's mouth and stomach seemed to drop in shock, simultaneously. "H-how did you—"

"Mother's intuition," Mrs. Granger said simply.

"Oh Merlin...It was the whole hair thing, wasn't it!" Hermione exclaimed.

Her mother smiled. "Hermione, dear, it was the moment you stepped off that train."

* * *

><p><em>Hermione,<em>

_According to Dad who is going off orders from Dumbledore, I'm supposed to invite you to stay at the Burrow for the rest of the holidays. Obviously with You-Know-Who out in the open now, things will be getting a little dodgier. Dumbledore, Dad, and some other Order members have placed loads of safety enchantments all over the house to ensure our protection. Pretty sure it's mostly for Harry though. He's going to be staying here, too, obviously. _

_So, Dad says that if it's convenient for you, Dumbledore will be at your house this Wednesday at five o'clock. He's going to be setting up some safety enchantments for your parents as well. Send an answer back with Pig. _

_Hope to see you soon,_

_Ron_

Hermione knew that she would eventually be staying at the Burrow this summer, but she hadn't expected it to be so soon. She'd only been home for about three weeks, and she wasn't quite ready to leave her parents yet. They would, of course, be rather saddened by her early departure as well.

Sighing to herself, she made her way downstairs, Ron's letter folded neatly in her pocket.

"Good morning, Pumpkin."

"Morning, Dad," Hermione said, taking her seat at the table. "Morning, Mum."

"Hermione," Mrs. Granger called from behind her shoulder, "both your dad and I have to go into the office today. I'm really sorry. You know we hate it when we leave you alone."

"Mum, I'm sixteen, I'll be fine," Hermione replied, amused.

"I know, I know. But we don't get to see you that often during the year and every moment is precious to us."

Hermione suddenly felt extremely guilty. But she figured there was never really going to be an opportune moment to break the news to her parents, so now would be as good a time as ever.

"About that..." she started. "Erm...I got a letter from Ron today—"

"Oh no," her mum said, turning around immediately. "Hermione, it's only been three weeks!"

"What is it?" Mr. Granger asked, confused.

"Ron's invited me over for the rest of the summer. In his letter he said that Dumbledore thinks it's best if I stay at the Burrow with the current situation in the Wizarding world being as it is," Hermione said, not looking at either of her parents.

"What does the Burrow have that we don't," her father asked irritably.

"Well...safety enchantments...and such," she replied.

Mrs. Granger sighed sadly. "I suppose we don't have much of a choice, do we?"

The guilt was literally squeezing at Hermione's heart at the moment. "What Dumbledore thinks is best, is usually best. He's just looking out for my safety," she stated.

"Hermione," her dad said, looking at her resignedly. "We just hate that other people get to see our little girl more than we do."

Feeling her eyes began to water, she quickly walked around the table to hug her father fiercely. "I'm so sorry, Dad. I wish I could always be with you both."

"We know, Hermione, we know," Hermione heard her mother say from behind her.

"I promise you, I'll be home for Christmas!"

"Are you sure you won't have too much studying to do?" her father asked with one eyebrow raised.

Hermione looked up at him, feeling horrified. However, she was relieved to find that there was mirth dancing in his chocolate brown eyes. "You didn't buy that, did you?"

"Not for a second," Mrs. Granger stated. "And then Dumbledore sent us a letter explaining everything."

"I'm _so_ sorry," Hermione said again.

"Don't you dare apologize, Hermione. This isn't your fault. It's nobody's fault—

"Besides that arsehole, Volda-whatever," Mr. Granger interjected.

"Dave!"

"Well he is one..."

Hermione smiled sadly. She desperately did not want to leave her parents just yet. But she knew she had to. Not just for her safety, but for theirs as well.

After her mum and dad left for work, Hermione made her way upstairs to owl Ron back with her reply.

She found Pig eyeing the cat treat, which she had placed uncertainly in front of him, with great scepticism. But it wasn't as if her house was brimming with owl treats.

Scribbling down a quick reply, she sent Pig on his way and began packing her trunk.

* * *

><p>"Do you think I could get away with murder? I mean I have gotten away with many things in the past."<p>

Hermione looked up from the copy of _Witch Weekly_ she was, for reasons beyond her, currently skimming through.

"Oh, she can't be _that_ bad."

"Hermione, you've barely been here for a day. Trust me, by the end of this week you'll be considering walking down dark alleyways in the hope that You-Know-Who might find you and do you in."

"And you've had these thoughts, I presume?"

"Clearly," Ginny replied.

The two girls were currently sitting on the floor of Ginny's bedroom doing absolutely nothing. Hermione had arrived the evening before, and was quite surprised to find Fleur Delacour waiting for her in the kitchen.

"Of course, Mum's doing her best to try and convince Bill that he's being a complete idiot, but that's not really working. Oh, and to top it all off, Ron leaves a trail of drool behind him whenever she so much as sneezes. It gets rather hard to clean up."

Hermione snorted loudly, flipping a page of her magazine.

However, she noticed that Ginny had suddenly stopped talking. "What?" she asked, as Ginny was currently staring her with a somewhat calculating expression.

"Nothing."

"Ginny..."

"Well it's just...I never knew you were so good at hiding your emotions."

"What in the world are you talking about?" Hermione said, utterly confused.

"Oh, come on," Ginny said, exasperatedly. "Didn't you just hear what I said about Ron and Phlegm?"

"Yes...so?" she asked confused.

"Wow..." Ginny exclaimed breathlessly. "You really are good..."

"Ginny! _What_ are you talking about?" Hermione demanded, starting to feel rather irritated.

The red-head rolled her eyes dramatically. "I'm talking about you hiding your jealousy over Ron," she said softly, as if Ron was currently listening in behind the door.

Hermione threw her head back in frustration and let out a very loud groan. "Ginny, how many times do I have to tell you? I. Do. Not. Fancy. Ron."

Ginny simply stared at her in astonishment along with what looked like a hint of admiration as well. "Hermione, you're really good at this—"

"Has it ever occurred to you that I'm really good at this BECAUSE I'M TELLING THE TRUTH?"

Ginny looked thoughtful for a moment. "No, not really," she replied.

"Well maybe it should have!" Hermione proclaimed fiercely. "What can I do to convince you?"

Once again, Ginny looked thoughtful. "Well...if you don't fancy Ron...but you claim that you _do_ fancy someone. Just tell me who that someone is," she said smugly.

_Oh bloody hell, oh bloody hell, oh bloody hell! WHAT NOW, HERMIONE? WHAT THE BLOODY HELL NOW?_

"I-I can't do that..."

"Why not, Hermione?" Ginny asked, the smug expression still plastered on her face.

"Because I don't like him anymore!"

_HA! That's a joke if I've ever heard one._

"So then...you wouldn't mind telling me who it was?"

"I would actually. I would very much mind."

Ginny sighed slowly. "Look, Hermione, I'm going to let you off the hook just this once, but you know you're going to have to tell me sooner or later."

_Yeah, I'll pick later._

"Thanks," Hermione replied, not feeling or sounding at all grateful.

The two girls sat there chattering away about nonsense for another ten minutes or so, Hermione still idly flipping through _Witch Weekly. _

However, she stopped suddenly as she reached the centrefold of the magazine, her eyes resting on the title.

_Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile:_

_Harry Potter_

She slowly unfolded the magazine to see Harry's face looking sheepishly back up at her. It was the same photograph that was used in the interview for _The Quibbler_, she noted.

Hermione wasn't sure whether to laugh out loud or be insanely jealous. The first emotion was quite justifiable; however, why she should be jealous was completely beyond her.

Amusement seemed to win out in this situation, however, as she immediately let out a hoot of laughter.

"What?" Ginny asked.

"Look at this," Hermione said, pushing the magazine over to her.

Ginny's face held an unreadable expression at first, but quite soon after she started chuckling as well. "I particularly enjoy how's he's not even smiling in the photo."

"I've got to go show this to Ron," Hermione stated, getting up. "He'll never let Harry live it down."

Ginny simply rolled her eyes amusedly.

Hermione made her way down to the sitting room where Ron was currently playing chess with Bill who looked he was being beaten pretty badly.

"Don't you ever get sick of playing chess?" Hermione said.

"Don't you ever get sick of reading?"

That shut her up quickly.

"Well, are you almost done?" she asked.

"What's it to you?" Ron replied, egging on his rook in the process.

Hermione clicked her tongue loudly. "Never mind!"

And with that she stomped all the way back up the staircase and into Ginny's room.

"You and Ron have a row?" Ginny asked, not looking up.

"Well, I wouldn't go so far as to call it a row. More like normal conversation, really," Hermione said, taking a seat on Ginny's bed.

She found herself counting down the minutes until Harry's arrival. Feelings or no feelings, she missed having her friend around. It just felt lonely at the Burrow without him. And Ron seemed to be less infuriating when he had his best mate with him, which she couldn't really explain. Maybe Harry just brought out the best in people.

Hermione inwardly chuckled at this.

_What a pathetically clichéd thought. Remind me never to think that again. _

"Hermione, are you thinking to yourself, again?"

"Sorry, I'll stop."

"Good, because it's gets dead annoying."

* * *

><p>Hermione woke up the next morning feeling rather well-rested and ready to tackle the day ahead. She looked at the clock next to her which read 7:19 am. She didn't usually wake up this early on her own, but she happily accepted the circumstances as she would most definitely be first to use the shower today.<p>

She darted quickly into the bathroom, locked the door behind her, and stepped into the hot water all in the span of about ten seconds.

She suddenly regretted not bringing her own shampoo into the shower. She'd packed one in her trunk, but was in too much of a hurry to dig through and find it this morning. So here she now stood, faced with about ten different very male shampoo bottles.

"Aha!" she exclaimed as she saw three feminine looking ones grouped in a small cluster of their own.

Hermione grabbed each one in turn and took a whiff. The first bottle held a faint smell of lemons, the second emitted a flowery fragrance, and the last was barely to her nose when a strong perfume hit her.

_Must be Fleur's, _Hermione thought, rolling her eyes.

She grabbed the lemon-scented shampoo and continued on with her shower, revelling in the feel of the hot water on her skin.

"You're up early," Ginny said, squinting her eyes up at Hermione as she entered their room.

"I guess I just woke up in the right part of my sleep cycle," Hermione shrugged.

Ginny continued squinting at her for a moment before shoving her head back under the covers.

It would still be about an hour and half until the house held any indication of being inhabited. This of course didn't include Mrs. Weasley, who was probably already doing the laundry or something of the like at this very moment.

About an hour later, there was a knock on the door.

"Ginny, Hermione! Breakfast is ready!"

"We'll be right down, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione called back.

Ginny merely grunted.

"Come on, Ginny, up, up!" Hermione said, making her way over to the girl's bed.

She threw off the covers swiftly, causing Ginny to make an odd strangled moan as she sat there writhing about.

"Allbderinnacek..."

"Sorry?" Hermione asked.

Ginny groaned loudly. "I'll be there in a sec!"

"I'm holding you to that," Hermione said, giving Ginny one final shove before making her way downstairs.

"Ah, Hermione! Have a seat. I'll just go call the boys one more time," Mrs. Weasley stated, as Hermione entered the kitchen.

"I can help you, if you like," Hermione offered.

"Well, you can try waking Ginny up again, but I know how much of a lost cause that is."

Hermione laughed. "Of course, Mrs. Weasley."

"Thank you, dear. But do try and not make too much noise. Harry's asleep in the twins' room."

Hermione stopped in her tracks. "Harry's here?"

"Yes, he arrived pretty late last night and the poor thing looks like he could use the sleep," Mrs. Weasley remarked.

Hermione nodded and quietly made her way back to Ginny's room.

"Ginny," she hissed in her ear. "Ginny, it's awful rude of you to be asleep when you have guests over."

"I don't see any guests," she replied tiredly, blatantly looking around Hermione.

"Yes, well I imagine he wouldn't want to intrude on you snoring."

Ginny ignored her for a moment, but Hermione knew it would register soon. And sure enough:

"Wait, who's 'he'?"

"Harry, of course..." Hermione stated. "He's sitting all alone in the kitchen with your mum. I think she mentioned your name a couple of times—"

"You're lying!" Ginny said, flinging the covers off herself. She ran out of the door, calling out to her Mum down the stairs.

"Ginevra Molly Weasley! _What _are you shouting about? Harry is right across the hall trying to sleep!" Mrs. Weasley hissed.

Ginny slowly turned around to face Hermione with a menacing look.

"Oops," Hermione stated simply.

"You'll pay for that one, Granger," Ginny whispered violently in her ear as she walked by.

"Hey, at least you're up now!" Hermione called after her.

* * *

><p>AN: Hey everyone so just one quick announcement. I will most likely NOT have any new updates for about a month...I'm going on vacation and then school is starting back up and a whole bunch of nonsense like that. I'm really sorry if that completely upsets anyone! But I thought it would be better if I gave you a head's up. But anyway, I hope you like this chapter, see you in a month!


	21. Chapter 21

_As I am still in the very early chapters of this little story of mine, I hesitate to begin my thorough discussion of one Ronald Weasley. Rest assured, there will be many, many discussions to come. So for now, I shall keep it quite simple. _

_Ron was my best friend. But you already knew that. Ron and I...we shared something so incredibly strong. I couldn't say it was _stronger_ than what Harry and I shared. It was just...different. Because we were the friends of the Boy-Who-Lived. And we were there. We were there by his side every step of the way. Sure, once in a while, one of us would fall behind, one of us would lose track. And sure...it was usually Ron. But we always found our way. _

_So you can go on and point your fingers at him. I know I did...But let me tell you, Ronald Weasley is the most loyal man I have ever known._

* * *

><p>"Wait, so Harry's actually here?" Ginny asked as she and Hermione made their way downstairs to the kitchen for breakfast.<p>

"That's what your mum said," Hermione shrugged. "I guess he arrived pretty late last night."

"Yeah, I guess..." Ginny replied.

"Which means he probably heard you snoring."

"Yeah, pr—wait what?" Ginny said sharply. "I do not snore, thank you very much."

"How would you know? You're asleep when it happens."

Ginny simply threw her a cool look.

"Ah! Good morning you sleepy 'eads!" a chipper voice called as the two girls entered the kitchen.

Ginny stared at Fleur for about three seconds, and then turned to Hermione. "Can I go back upstairs?"

"No."

"Morning," Ron said groggily, appearing in the doorway behind them. All traces of drowsiness seemed to disappear, however, as Fleur took him by the arm and led him to the kitchen table.

"Oh no, she's touched him," Ginny stated quietly so only Hermione could hear. "Now he won't be able to form coherent sentences for about another half hour."

Both girls chuckled softly as they took their seats, earning curious looks from Mrs. Weasley.

Breakfast passed rather uneventfully and even seemed to drag a bit, which was unfortunate seeing as Hermione was quite eager for it to be over. Harry was upstairs and it had been almost a month since she'd last seen him.

Yet, while she was excited to see him again, she was also a bit anxious. Their letters had been scarce and she wasn't entirely sure how he had been coping with Sirius' death. Not to mention the recent news in the papers. All that nonsense about Harry being 'The Chosen One'. Absolute, utter nonsense...

"Ginny, dear, hand me a couple pieces of toast. I'm going to bring up a breakfast tray for Harry. I swear that boy gets thinner and thinner every time I see him," Mrs. Weasley said, piling enough food to feed a family of four.

Ron's fork instantly clattered noisily onto his plate. "Harry? Harry who?"

"Harry Smithers. He's a squib we found in the attic," Ginny replied.

Mrs. Weasley threw Ginny a disapproving look before turning her attention back to Ron. "Harry _Potter_, dear. He arrived late last night, so I thought I'd let him sleep in."

At once, the legs of Ron's chair squeaked loudly as he hurriedly pushed it back and rushed out of the kitchen, oblivious to Mrs. Weasley's protests.

And without another second's thought, Hermione followed.

"Ron, try not to be too loud. He is still asleep, you know!" Hermione called after him.

Ron ignored her, however, and opened the door with a loud _bang_ that she was fairly sure would give Harry a heart attack.

And sure enough, he instantly sprang into an upright position, looking quite shocked, and shielding his eyes from the sunlight as Ron pulled back the curtains.

"Wuzzgoinon?" Harry asked, groping for his glasses hopelessly with one hand while the other was still covering his eyes.

Hermione couldn't help but smile slightly. He looked so helpless and his hair was sticking out like mad all over the place. And she just found him so completely endearing. How was it that anything he did made him so completely endearing? It was a mystery.

"We didn't know you were here already!" Ron said excitedly, punching Harry playfully on the top of the head.

"Ron, don't hit him!" Hermione said reproachfully.

Harry finally shoved his glasses on, still squinting from the bright light of the sun.

"All right?" Ron asked, grinning down at him.

"Never been better," said Harry, rubbing the top of his head and slumping back onto his pillows. "You?"

As Harry and Ron reacquainted with themselves, Hermione took to scrutinizing Harry.

_He seems okay...quite normal actually. And much better than last summer, that's for sure. But maybe he just doesn't want to show us he's hurting...or scared...but why should he be scared? He's not 'The Chosen One', after all. That's all a bunch of rubbish. Isn't it? _

_How should I know?_

_Rhetorical question._

_It'd better be._

"How're you, Hermione?" Harry asked, interrupting her thoughts.

She suddenly realized that she'd been staring quite intently at Harry, and her cheeks grew warm at the thought. "Oh, I'm fine," she replied.

Harry nodded, looking away from her. "What's the time? Have I missed breakfast?"

"Don't worry about that, Mum's bringing you up a tray; she reckons you look underfed," said Ron, rolling his eyes. "So, what's been going on?"

Hermione threw a warning glance to Ron. It was Harry's first day here, and she didn't think it was best to push him into explaining anything just yet.

"Nothing much, I've just been stuck at my aunt and uncle's, haven't I?"

"Come off it!" said Ron. "You've been off with Dumbledore!"

"It wasn't that exciting. He just wanted me to help him persuade this old teacher to come out of retirement. His name's Horace Slughorn."

"Oh," said Ron, looking disappointed. "We thought—"

Hermione threw Ron another severe look and he changed tack at top speed.

"—we thought it'd be something like that."

She groaned internally.

"You did?" said Harry, looking amused.

"Yeah...yeah, now Umbridge has left, obviously we need a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, don't we? So, er, what's he like?" Ron said, attempting to dig himself out of his hole.

Hermione couldn't help but wonder at Harry's behaviour. He seemed so...normal. Maybe the papers really were printing rubbish articles. Maybe she and Ron were worrying for nothing. Maybe Harry wasn't the Chosen One...

"He looks a bit like a walrus, and he used to be head of Slytherin," said Harry. "Something wrong, Hermione?"

Once again, Hermione was shaken out of her thoughts. And once again, Harry had caught her intently staring at him.

"No, of course not! So, um, did Slughorn seem like he'll be a good teacher?" she asked, rearranging her features hastily into what she was sure was an unconvincing smile.

_That's twice you've embarrassed yourself in his company and it's only been ten minutes. Get your act together, Hermione! What's the matter with you?_

_Well, it's not as if I'm gawking at him for my own personal pleasure. I just want to know that he's okay!_

_So then wait for him to tell you that he's okay. _

_Maybe I don't want to wait. _

_Maybe you just want to stare at him._

_Is it my fault that I haven't seen him for a month?_

_Don't be dramatic. It's been only been three weeks._

_Three and half. _

_Stop._

"I know someone who's worse than Umbridge," said a voice from the doorway. Ginny slouched into the room, looking irritable. "Hi, Harry."

"What's up with you?" Ron asked.

"It's _her_," said Ginny, plonking herself down on Harry's bed. "She's driving me mad."

Hermione sighed. "What's she done now?"

"It's the way she talks to me—you'd think I was about three!"

"I know," said Hermione, dropping her voice. "She's so full of herself."

"Can't you two lay off her for five seconds?" Ron said angrily.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Oh, that's right, defend her," snapped Ginny. "We all know you can't get enough of her."

There was a very confused expression plastered on Harry's face and just as Hermione was about to explain, Fleur walked into the room.

"'Arry," she said in a throaty voice. "Eet 'as been too long!"

Hermione and Ginny exchanged a similar look of disgust which only intensified as Fleur swooped down to kiss Harry on each cheek. And as if it couldn't get any worse, a definite blush seemed to appear instantly on Harry's face.

Hermione felt a sort of heat in the pit of her stomach that quickly travelled up her chest. It was quite unnerving actually, this feeling. She spent all last year seeing Harry with Cho, yet never once did she feel such intense jealousy. It seemed like the more time that passed, the stronger her feelings became.

And she just hated that Fleur could make him blush. Why couldn't _she_ make him blush?

_Because you're not part-Veela, are you? _

_Why should that matter?_

_You're not beautiful. _

_I've got brains. That's enough!_

_You keep telling yourself that. _

_NO! Beauty doesn't matter. It's what's inside that counts._

_What fairytale book did you get that out of?_

"Don't you get used to her if she's staying in the same house?" Harry asked Ron, who was looking at the doorway through which Fleur had just left with a slightly dazed expression.

Hermione scoffed quite loudly.

"Well, you do," said Ron, "but if she jumps out at you unexpectedly, like then..."

"It's pathetic," said Hermione furiously, folding her arms and refusing to look at Harry.

"You don't really want her around forever?" Ginny asked Ron incredulously. When he merely shrugged, she said, "Well, Mum's going to put a stop to it if she can, I bet you anything."

"How's she going to manage that?" asked Harry.

"She keeps trying to get Tonks round for dinner. I think she's hoping Bill will fall for Tonks instead. I hope he does, I'd much rather have her in the family."

"Yeah, that'll work," said Ron sarcastically. "Listen, no bloke in his right mind's going to fancy Tonks when Fleur's around. I mean Tonks is okay-looking when she isn't doing stupid things to her hair and her nose, but—"

Hermione really wanted nothing more at the moment than to punch Ron in the face. He was being so shallow it was almost sickening. Surely Harry wasn't that shallow as well?

"She's a damn sight nicer than _Phlegm_," said Ginny.

"And she's more intelligent, she's an Auror!" Hermione added.

"Fleur's not stupid, she was good enough to enter the Triwizard Tournament," said Harry.

Hermione felt as if someone had struck her in the stomach. She turned to face Harry with a hard look in her eyes, her arms still firmly crossed. "Not you as well!" she said bitterly.

"I suppose you like the way Phlegm says ''Arry,' do you?" asked Ginny scornfully.

"No," said Harry, sounding a bit flustered. "I was just saying Phlegm—I mean, Fleur—"

"I'd much rather have Tonks in the family," said Ginny with a tone of finality.

It wasn't until the discussion of Fleur had ended and Ginny had left the room that Hermione seemed to regain her bearings. She suddenly felt slightly foolish. Harry and Ron were just teenage boys, after all. Maybe she had overreacted...

Or maybe she hadn't.

The more Hermione thought about it, the more she began to understand just what had bothered her most. It wasn't her jealously, it wasn't her insecurities. It was something more. It was her naivety.

Harry was never simply a teenage boy. In fact, there was nothing _simple_ about him.

But somewhere in her mind, Hermione _had _simplified him. Somewhere in her mind, she had created an idealistic Harry Potter. A mature young man, a brave hero, a compassionate friend, a perfect gentlemen.

But she'd been naive. He wasn't perfect. He was only human. He was only a teenage boy.

And as Hermione looked up at him, deep in conversation with Ron, his green eyes bright from the sun, she realized how utterly boring an idealistic Harry would be.

_Anyway, you need to relax. It's not as if he killed a man. The boy can appreciate a kiss on the cheek from a pretty girl if he wants to. It doesn't make him 'shallow', it makes him human. Stop overanalyzing everything._

_For once, I agree with you. _

Hermione quickly joined into the conversation after her small epiphany, only to be met with a not so conversational statement.

"Dumbledore's going to be giving me private lessons this year," said Harry.

Ron choked on his bit of toast, and Hermione gasped.

"I think it must be because of the prophecy."

As soon as he said those words, Hermione's heartbeat quickened dangerously. Neither she nor Ron spoke.

"You know, the one they were trying to steal at the Ministry."

"Nobody knows what it said, though. It got smashed," said Hermione quickly, as if presenting enough logic would prove his statement false.

"The glass ball that smashed wasn't the only record of the prophecy. I heard the whole thing in Dumbledore's office. From what it said," Harry took a deep breath in, "it looks like I'm the one who's got to finish off Voldemort...At least, it said neither of us could live while the other survives."

The three of them gazed at one another in silence for a moment. Hermione could feel her insides squirming with a mixture of fear, anxiety, and nerves.

This was all too much. Why Harry? Why was it always Harry? Hadn't he been through enough?

She stared at him, then whispered, "Are you scared?"

"Not as much as I was," said Harry. "When I first heard it, I was...but now, it seems as though I always knew I'd have to face him in the end..."

Hermione quickly pushed her fears aside and switched to business mode. Harry needed her, and she would be there.

"...Dumbledore wouldn't be giving you lessons if he thought you were a goner, wouldn't waste his time—he must think you've got a chance!"

"That's true," said Hermione, pleasantly surprised by Ron's insight. "Well, at least you know one lesson you'll be having this year, that's one more than Ron and me. I wonder when our O.W.L results will come."

"Hang on," said Harry. "I think Dumbledore said they'd be arriving today!"

"Today?" shrieked Hermione. "_Today?_ But why didn't you—oh my God—you should have said—"

She leapt to her feet instantly, her heart pounding hard in her ears and her throat going uncomfortably dry.

_Relax, just relax. Breathe. You've got this, Hermione. You have got this!_

_Who am I kidding...I haven't got anything...I've failed everything...I know I have..._

"Mrs. Weasley!" Hermione all but shouted as she raced into the kitchen.

"Oh!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, a hand placed over her heart in shock. "What is it, dear?"

"Have any owls arrived this morning?"

"No, I'm afraid not. Are you expecting anything?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Yes, actually. According to Harry, our O.W.L results are supposed to be arriving today," Hermione replied, her voice slightly higher than usual.

"What do you need them for?" asked Ginny who had just entered the kitchen, followed by Ron. "It's obvious you've gotten eleven O's."

"Don't talk like that, Ginny. This is no laughing matter!" Hermione stated briskly.

"Who said I was laughing?" Ginny replied quietly.

When at last three owls appeared outside the window, Hermione was quite positive her heart had stopped.

She opened her envelope with shaking hands, trying her best not to hyperventilate. Out of the corner of her eye she saw both Harry and Ron unfolding their letters.

_Here goes..._

As she unfolded her own letter, her eyes seemed to instantly gravitate towards the blaring letter 'E' right in the middle of the parchment. Only afterwards did she notice the lovely round O's surrounding it.

A part of her rejoiced. A large part. But then another tiny part was also slightly disappointed. It would have been nice to have gotten eleven Outstandings...

_Oh, get over yourself. You're not perfect, you know!_

_Yeah...nobody is...I guess I keep realizing that today._

* * *

><p>"No."<p>

"Oh, come on!"

"Nope."

"Please!"

"I won't do it."

"_Hermione."_

"I could _die!"_

Harry, Ron, and Ginny stared at her with identical looks of exasperation. They were attempting to force her (to no avail) to play two-a-side Quidditch with them, and she simply would not have any of it.

"Well, I could!" she argued.

"Hermione, I _promise_ I won't let anything happen to you," Harry said, looking her straight in the eyes with such an intense stare that she could feel her body temperature rising tremendously.

_How can you say no to that face?_

_Easy, like this:_

"N—"

"Please, Hermione, just one little game," Harry practically begged, looking much too cute for his own good.

"FINE!"

"Yes!" they cried in unison.

"But if you start yelling at me again like you did that one time because I missed all those goals, then I'm out!" Hermione stated, crossing her arms in a huff.

Harry looked like he was having some sort of inner conflict.

"Well?" she prodded, her arms still crossed.

He sighed. "I promise I will do no such thing."

"That's all I ask," Hermione smiled as she mounted her broom.

"Are you two ladies ready?" called Ron from the air, earning a fist to the stomach from Ginny.

"Quite!" Hermione replied pleasantly.

And they were off.

This was the second time this summer that Hermione had agreed to play Quidditch and already she was regretting it. She simply was not built to fly on a broomstick. Any time she would go for a save, she felt like she was risking her life.

"70-30!" Ron called out as Ginny scored yet another goal.

Hermione glanced over at Harry timidly. He looked as if he was trying his best to maintain his composure.

"Just...try better next time, yeah?" Harry said, taking the Quaffle from her.

"I will!" she replied earnestly.

And all too soon, Ginny was once again rushing towards their end of the pitch.

"Come on, Hermione!" she heard Harry yell out to her. "You can do it! Keep your eye on the Quaffle!"

_Eye on the Quaffle...eye on the Quaffle. You've got this! _

Hermione looked down at her hands in shock. The red makeshift Quaffle had somehow managed to find its way into them.

"That's it, Hermione! Nice job!" Harry cried, flying towards her at full speed.

Hermione screamed, certain she was about to be pummelled to her death. However, Harry came to a graceful halt right next to her just in time.

And before she could even register what had happened, he pulled her into a hug.

"I told you, you could do it," Harry said, letting go and throwing her a cheeky grin.

"Yeah," Hermione replied breathlessly. "Yeah..."

Harry laughed. "Quidditch has made you speechless. Who would have thought?"

"Yeah...Quidditch..." she said, letting out a slightly high-pitched giggle.

Hermione watched as he flew away on his broom to the centre of the pitch. She liked it when he flew. She liked it when he did anything, really. But flying was near the top. So was hugging. Yes, she liked hugging very much.

Regaining some of the brain cells that she seemed to have lost since her embrace with Harry, she managed to save five more goals that match. Unfortunately, none of them were met with the same reward as the first one, but it was still extremely gratifying to have Harry cheer her on.

"Ron, this is the last goal, if you don't bloody save it, I _will_ castrate you!" Ginny shouted as Harry sped towards Ron's end of the pitch. "Oh, for the love of—!"

"WOOO! GO, HARRY!" Hermione cheered from her end as Harry successfully made it past Ron.

"Well, that was quite fun, wasn't it?" Hermione said, as the four of them landed on the ground.

Ginny and Ron simply stared at her while Harry laughed behind them.

* * *

><p>It was a hot Sunday afternoon and Hermione and Ron were assigned the not so pleasant chore of cleaning out the chicken coop.<p>

"Who usually does this?" Hermione asked, her nostrils scrunched in disgust.

"Whoever's stupid enough to be in the room at the time," Ron answered. "Otherwise, Mum just uses magic."

"And remind me why she can't use magic _now_?"

"She likes to give us chores during the summer so we don't grow too lazy," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Lovely," Hermione stated, sweeping chicken droppings off the ground.

They went on working in silence for about another ten minutes, until:

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

He didn't answer right away, but when he did it was in a low voice.

"Are you...well...are you scared?"

She paused for a moment, not looking at him. He didn't have to explain himself; she knew exactly what he was referring to.

"Yes," she whispered. "I'm terrified."

Her proclamation was met with more silence.

"Me too," Ron said at last.

"We can't tell him," she said, finally looking up at him.

"What, do you think I'm an idiot? He's got enough on his plate already. He doesn't need to worry about our feelings, as well."

"And we can never leave his side," she added.

"Hermione, I'm not thick."

"And...and we have to support him no matter what!"

"I kn—"

"And we have to help him...we have to protect him...w-we have to...to..." All at once, tears were spilling from Hermione's eyes and a bulge was forming in the back of her throat that was preventing her from speaking.

She felt arms wrap around her almost tentatively and hands patting her gently on the back.

"He'll be okay, Hermione," she heard Ron say quietly.

She looked up into his face, her vision still slightly blurred from the tears. "Promise me something, Ron."

"Sure...anything..."

Hermione swallowed hard, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. "Promise me that you and I will never leave Harry's side. _Promise me_," she said in a shaking voice.

She looked Ron straight in the eyes. There was something in them that she couldn't quite read. Something she'd never seen before.

"I promise."

And in an instant, that something was gone.

* * *

><p>AN: I'm back! I hope you guys haven't forgotten about this little story of mine. And I hope that you enjoyed this chapter. NOW LISTEN: I want a favour from you all. It would be so extremely helpful to me if you guys could tell me one think you like about this story and one thing you dislike. (or more than one thing if you're an overachiever). Why, you ask? Because I want to constantly improve this story. And I plan on it being pretty long. So, if there's something that just annoys you or that you hate or that you love, then let me know and I can change it or keep it the same! Also the one thing about judging your own work is that it is terribly hard to be objective. I can't read through this fic pretending it's someone else's, so that's why I need you! I would appreciate it immensely. I hope that's not too much to ask. As always, thanks for reading :)

Oh and one more thing. I went back and edited Ch. 20 because frankly, it was atrocious in some parts. It was mostly grammatical and word usage things. HOWEVER, I did edit the 'Memoir' section at the beginning quite a lot. You don't need to really go back and read it, but I'm just letting you know in case you want to. That is all. Good day!


	22. Chapter 22

_When you love someone, you would do anything in the world for them. Whether it be a family member, a friend, or a soul mate. Because doing things for them makes you happy. The satisfaction of seeing their smile, or their relief, or their comfort, or their safety. That makes you happy. It's quite a shame that most people don't understand how easy it is to be selfless. You just have to love someone._

_Love is selfless_

* * *

><p>After quite a secluded summer at the Burrow, it felt strange going back to Hogwarts. Hermione had never before appreciated just how different normal teenagers' lives were to her own. Here she, Harry and Ron were, worrying over the fate of the Wizarding world, while most other people their age barely even acknowledged the fact that there was a war going on.<p>

It frustrated her to no end to hear people talk about trivial things. Didn't they realize how much danger they were all in? Didn't they realize that people were dying? No. All they cared about was the latest article in _Witch Weekly_ or the current standings of their favourite Quidditch teams.

And to add to her frustration, it seemed like more than half the population of Hogwarts (mostly the female half) had suddenly become star-struck with Harry all over again. And the last thing he needed was people constantly reminding him that he was, in fact, 'The Chosen One'.

Hermione really didn't anticipate the extent of female attention Harry would receive upon arriving at Hogwarts. Sure, _Witch Weekly_ had been printing numerous articles about him in the last couple of months, but she didn't expect so many girls to have such a change of heart. After all, it was only last year that most of them thought Harry was a lying, attention-seeking prat. And now, even the most unlikely of girls would suddenly blush if Harry walked passed them.

Hermione found it almost comical. Could a simple magazine really have so much effect on people? Were they really incapable of formulating their own opinions? It would seem so, she decided.

"All I'm saying is, teenage girls are pathetic," Hermione stated plainly to Ginny as the two girls sat in Ginny's empty dormitory one night during the first week of term.

"Well, I can't really argue with you there, but don't you think you're still being a _bit _harsh?" Ginny asked, organizing the clothes in her trunk.

"No, not really," Hermione replied, as she sat back against the wardrobe with her arms crossed.

"I dunno...I mean it isn't _all_ because of his fame..."

Hermione stared at Ginny inquiringly. "You've lost me."

"Well, he's gotten mightily more attractive this year, hasn't he?" Ginny stated matter-of-factly.

"He has?" Hermione asked, genuinely surprised.

Ginny chuckled heartily. "Oh come on, Hermione. You don't have to fancy him to notice how much more appealing he's become. It's not just the 'Chosen One' thing, it's the entire package," she stated again in that tone that made it sound like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Package?" Hermione asked dumbfounded.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Do I have to spell it out for you? He's _hott_, Hermione, he's hott."

"Who's hott?"

Both girls looked up to see one of Ginny's dorm mates enter the room.

"Harry Potter," Ginny answered.

The girl's eyes suddenly seemed to mist over. "Isn't he, though?" she responded enthusiastically, clearly eager to join in on the conversation.

Ginny gave Hermione a 'there-you-go' look, and Hermione simply smiled back at her uncertainly.

"Mind you, the fame hasn't really hurt him, either," Ginny said fairly.

"Right...well I'm going to have to wrap my head around that one..." Hermione said standing up from her position against the wardrobe. "I have to go read up on some Ancient Runes now, though, so I'll see you later."

Ginny smiled amusedly up at her. "You do that, Hermione."

When she returned back to her own dormitory, which was thankfully void of Lavender and Parvati at the moment, Hermione lay in her four-poster replaying the previous conversation in her head.

When in the world had Harry become so attractive that girls' eyes were misting over at the mere mention of him? Sure, he'd grown a few inches over the summer. And sure, his body had become much more defined and his features had lost almost all traces of baby fat. But was he really _attractive_?

"_You don't have to fancy him to notice how much more appealing he's become..."_

_But I DO fancy him! Therefore, I should have noticed. How have I not noticed? I'm the observant one!_

Turning on to her side, Hermione suddenly felt a sharp edge prod her ribs. She felt around underneath her for the source and pulled out a book from under the covers. It was one of the many books she had borrowed from the library the first day of term.

She let her eyes linger on the cover for a moment, her fingers tracing the title: _The Dark Arts Defeated. _

With a grim realization, she suddenly understood why Ginny's words seemed so foreign to her. Ever since Harry had told her and Ron about the prophecy, Hermione had really only been concerned with one thing. Keeping him alive. Everything else was sort of pushed to the backdrop of her mind.

What did it matter really? Whether Harry had become more attractive or not. It seemed almost ridiculous to ponder over a subject like that when there were much more important subjects to ponder over.

"Yes, but did you _hear_ what she said?"

Hermione looked up to see Lavender and Parvati enter the room.

"I know, I know, but can you honestly even believe her anymore? You remember what Seamus told us last year..."

Hermione exhaled slowly, bending down to place the book in her hands on top of the growing pile beneath her bed. Closing the curtains around her four-poster, she turned back on her side and fell asleep.

* * *

><p>Harry, Ron, and Hermione were seated in the common room the next afternoon during their after-lunch free period, attempting to work on their Defence Against the Dark Arts homework.<p>

"Blimey, this is horrible," Ron said, crossing out yet another sentence. "What in Merlin's name possessed Snape to become a teacher, anyway?"

Harry shrugged. "His love for children?"

Hermione giggled softly.

"How much time do we got left?" Ron asked, already packing his things away.

Hermione looked at her watch. "I guess we might as well start heading down to the dungeons. It's not like we're making much progress here."

Grabbing their bags, the three of them climbed out of the portrait hole and made their way down to Potions.

Four cauldrons were placed on the front desk, waiting for everyone as they entered the classroom. Hermione observed each of them carefully. The first two she knew for certain, the third she was easily able to figure out, and the fourth she was still trying to decipher.

"I've prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. Anyone tell me what this one is?"

Hermione's hand immediately shot into the air. "It's Veritaserum, a colourless, odourless, potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth."

"Very good, very good!" said Slughorn happily. He then gestured at the second cauldron. "Who can—?"

Hermione's hand flew up once more. "It's polyjuice potion, sir." She had enough experience with _that_ to last a lifetime.

"Excellent, excellent! Now, this one here...yes, my dear?" said Slughorn, now looking slightly bemused.

"It's Amortentia. The most powerful love potion in the world!" she said.

"Quite right! You recognized it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?"

"And the steam rising in characteristic spirals. And it's supposed to smell differently to each of us according to what attracts us, and I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and—"

_The clean scent of soap. _

Hermione suddenly felt her face heat up.

_Harry... _

Out of the corner of her eye she could she him staring at her curiously.

_Yeah no big deal...I just smelled your scent in a love potion. _

"May I ask your name, my dear?" said Slughorn, startling Hermione.

"Hermione Granger, sir."

"Granger? Granger? Can you possibly be related to Hector Dogwarth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?"

"No, I don't think so, sir. I'm Muggle-born, you see."

Hermione noticed Malfoy lean close to Nott and whisper something causing them both to snigger. She could feel Harry tense up beside her and looked up to see him glaring menacingly at them. Although the taunting and prejudice towards her blood no longer affected her in the same way it used to, she still felt a rush of gratitude towards Harry, nonetheless.

Unlike Malfoy, Slughorn showed no dismay; on the contrary he beamed down at Hermione and then looked to Harry.

"Oho! '_One of my best friends is Muggle-born, and she's the best in our year!'_ I'm assuming this is the very friend of whom you spoke, Harry?"

"Yes, sir," said Harry.

It took a moment for Hermione to realize what Slughorn had just said. But when she did, a sudden warmth seemed to erupt inside her chest. She looked up at Harry with a radiant expression and whispered, "Did you really tell him I'm the best in the year? Oh, Harry!"

"Well, what's so impressive about that?" whispered Ron, who for some reason looked annoyed. "You _are_ the best in our year—I'd have told him so if he'd asked me!"

Hermione smiled at him, feeling slightly guilty that coming from Ron, the words didn't have nearly as much affect on her.

In an effort to make that distinction less obvious, she quickly turned her attention back to Slughorn. He was currently introducing the last cauldron, which Hermione immediately identified as Felix Felicis.

"Yes, it's a funny little potion, Felix Felicis," said Slughorn. "Desperately tricky to make, and disastrous to get wrong. However, if brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find that all your endeavours tend to succeed...at least until the effects wear off."

Hermione along with everyone else in the room simply stared at the bottle in awe. And the awe transformed into intense desire as Slughorn announced that it would be given as a prize for the best brewed Draught of Living Death potion.

"I know it is more complex than anything you have attempted before, and I do not expect a perfect potion from anybody. The person who does best, however, will win little Felix here. Off you go!"

Hermione could hear her heart beating excitedly in her ears as she immediately turned on the fire beneath her cauldron. It was as if the door to an entire corridor-full of opportunities had just burst open in front of her. Because if there was one thing that her, Ron, and most importantly Harry, would need in the coming months, it was luck. And she had to be the one to provide it. After all, Harry and Ron weren't exactly the greatest potioneers of their age...

And so, Hermione worked diligently the rest of the period, Slughorn's words continuously ringing in her ears.

'_You will find that all your endeavours tend to succeed.'_

'_All your endeavours tend to succeed.'_

'_All your endeavours tend to succeed...'_

_Why is this blasted thing still purple? It's supposed to be a pale pink!_

_Come on! Turn pink!_

Hermione let out a huff of frustration. She turned to read the clock on the wall only to do a double-take at Harry's cauldron. His potion had somehow turned the perfectly pale pink colour the textbook described.

"How are you doing that?" Hermione asked him in awe.

"Add a clockwise stir—"

"No, no, the book says counter clockwise!"

Harry simply shrugged and continued what he was doing.

Hermione stared at his cauldron for a few more seconds before focusing her attention back to her own which had now at least turned a shade of pink.

Yet, it still wasn't nearly as pale as Harry's.

_Then do what Harry did. _

_What, so I could ruin a perfectly brewed potion? No, thank you!_

_It seemed to work for him. _

_In appearance, maybe. But he's probably gone and altered the composition. I can't risk that!_

_Fine, have it your way then._

"And time's...up!" called Slughorn suddenly. "Stop stirring, please!"

Hermione watched nervously as Slughorn began walking around, looking into everyone's cauldrons but making no comments.

As he approached her, Hermione was fairly sure he gave her cauldron a nod of approval. But when he saw Harry's, a look of incredulous delight immediately spread over his face.

"The clear winner!" he cried to the dungeon. "Excellent, excellent, Harry! Good lord, it's clear you've inherited your mother's talent. She was a dab hand at Potions, Lily was! Here you are, then, here you are—one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well!"

Hermione watched as Slughorn slipped the bottle into Harry's hands.

She was happy for him, of course. Why wouldn't she be? She'd wanted to win the Felix Felicis for him in the first place. But some part of her was also just the smallest bit disappointed...Because _she_ wanted to be the one to hand the bottle over to Harry. She wanted to be the one to win it for him.

But why?

Did she want the glory? Did she want the satisfaction? Did she want Harry to grovel at her knees in gratitude?

_No. No. And definitely not._

_Well, what is it then?_

_I don't know...Maybe I just like doing things for people!_

_Or maybe you just like doing things for Harry. _

Hermione considered that statement for a moment as everyone gathered their things at the end of the class period. But it felt as if there was something else. Some other part of that reason that she had yet to completely understand.

"How did you do that?" Ron whispered to Harry as they left the dungeon.

Hermione nearly stopped in her tracks. She had been so wrapped up in all her musings that she completely forgot to ask Harry that exact same question. How _did_ he do it?

It wasn't until they were securely ensconced at the Gryffindor table for dinner, however, that Harry explained everything to them.

A book. With orders. That Harry blindly followed.

That was what Hermione got out of the conversation, anyway.

"I s'pose you think I cheated?" Harry said, looking aggravated.

Hermione had been just about to open her mouth to scold him for acting so carelessly, when his words suddenly cut her off.

Did he really think that was what she was upset about? She struggled slightly, trying to find the right words to make him understand.

"He only followed different instructions to ours," said Ron. "Could've been a catastrophe, couldn't it? But he took a risk and it paid off."

"That's exactly the problem!" Hermione was about to exclaim. Except this time she was cut off by Ginny.

"Hang on. Did I hear right? You've been taking orders from something someone wrote in a book, Harry?"

_Finally someone understands!_

"It's nothing," Harry said reassuringly, lowering his voice. "It's not like, you know, Riddle's diary. It's just an old textbook someone's scribbled on."

"But you're doing what it says?"

"I just tried a few of the tips written in the margins, honestly, Ginny, there's nothing funny—"

"We ought to check that there's nothing odd about it. I mean, all these funny instructions, who knows?" Hermione added, taking the book out of Harry's bag and casting a revealing charm on it.

But nothing happened. The book simply lay there, looking old and dirty and dog-eared.

"Finished?" said Harry irritably. "Or d'you want to wait and see if it does a few back flips?"

Hermione reluctantly handed the book back to him. Something about it still felt strange, but she would let it go for now.

* * *

><p>The second week of term had finally come to an end. So many things seemed to happen in this short time span, and it was starting to slowly overwhelm Hermione. With her schoolwork, Harry's lessons with Dumbledore, Harry's theories about Malfoy, her worries over whoever the Half-Blood Prince was, Ron's insecurities about making the Quidditch team, Hagrid's refusal to speak with them for not taking his class, the fate of the Wizarding world, her parents' safety, Harry's safety, Harry in general...<p>

It was all just a bit too much. But then Hermione had to wonder if there was ever a time since she came to Hogwarts where it wasn't. Or rather, since she became friends with Harry.

She let her eyes travel from the book she was reading to Harry who was currently sitting across from her at the breakfast table, buttering his toast. She watched as he proceeded to bite around the edges, rotating the bread slowly until he reached the middle.

Hermione had seen him do this a hundred times in the past, yet she never once said anything. It was just some weird habit of his.

"Why do you do that?" she said suddenly.

Harry looked up at her confused. "What?" he asked through a mouthful of toast.

"That. That thing with your toast," she stated.

"Oh..." he said, looking down at his toast as if seeing it for the first time. "Well...I don't know...I'm not really fond of the crust so I eat it all first to get it over with. And then I just like eating around the edges after, I guess..."

Hermione smiled amusedly. "Wouldn't it be easier to just stuff the thing in your mouth like a normal person?"

"Says the girl who uses a knife and fork to eat a chicken leg."

"It's much more sanitary."

"Maybe. But it's definitely not as satisfying."

Hermione was just about to open her mouth to retort when a tall dark-haired girl tapped Harry on the shoulder.

"Hi, Harry!" she said in an overly sugary voice. "I was just wondering what time Quidditch tryouts are this morning."

"Nine," he answered.

The girl smiled brilliantly, placing her hand on Harry's arm. "Thanks, Harry. You're so helpful. I'll see you at nine, then!"

Hermione simply stared at the girl. And at the girl's hand which was still resting on Harry's arm.

"Er...yeah," Harry replied. "See you."

"Well," Hermione said as the girl walked away, "I'm sure she'll be a great asset to the team, considering she's a Hufflepuff."

Harry appeared to have choked on his juice. He turned his head quickly and watched as the girl made her way back to the Hufflepuff table. "Do you think she's mad?" he asked seriously.

Hermione tried her best to hold back the laugh that was threatening to escape her. "No...no, I don't think so, Harry..."

"Well it's either that or she's just thoroughly confused," Harry said, turning back around to face Hermione.

_She may be many things, but she's definitely not confused, _Hermione thought as she stared at Harry.

She couldn't help but wonder how she had been so blind to his physical transformation over the summer. All traces of childhood seemed to have disappeared from his features. He looked like a man. And he _was_ a man. After everything he'd gone through and everything he'd discovered, he was forced into a sort of prematurity. And she hated it, but there was nothing in the world she could do about it.

As she continued staring at Harry, butterflies erupted inside her stomach for what seemed like no apparent reason. He was talking to Ron who had just joined them at the breakfast table. Just talking. It was an utterly normal thing to do. Yet, it made her heart beat just a little bit faster.

Ginny had been correct. Harry was actually...rather hott.

And she had absolutely no idea when that happened.

Even using 'Harry' and 'hott' in the same sentence felt remarkably strange to her, but there was no denying it. And suddenly...everything about him just seemed that much more appealing...

_Oh good lord...I've turned into one of his fan girls...what's next, I start talking about him in the lavatories and trying out for his stupid Quidditch team and spiking his drinks with love potion?_

_Oh wait, no, because you're not shallow and pathetic. _

_I'm not?_

_I guess we'll find out, won't we?_

"So, erm, we should really go down to see Hagrid. I expect he's still pretty upset with us," Hermione said, attempting to deviate from the current subject on her mind.

"We'll go down after Quidditch," Harry stated. "But trials might take all morning, the number of people who have applied. I dunno why the team's this popular all of a sudden."

Surely he wasn't that oblivious?

"Oh come on, Harry! It's not _Quidditch_ that's popular, it's you! You've never been more interesting, and frankly...you've never been more fanciable."

Ron gagged on a large piece of kipper. Hermione looked at him oddly before turning back to Harry.

"Everyone knows you've been telling the truth now, don't they? The whole Wizarding world has had to admit that you were right about Voldemort being back and that you really have fought him twice in the last two years and escaped both times. And now they're calling you 'the Chosen One'—well, come on, can't you see why people are fascinated by you?"

But Harry just looked slightly uncomfortable.

_Should I add that he's also gotten 'mightily more attractive'?_

"And it doesn't hurt that you've grown about a foot over the summer either," Hermione finished, deciding it was best not to add to his discomfort.

"I'm tall!" said Ron.

Hermione once again looked at Ron oddly. Their eyes locked for the briefest of moments, and she thought she saw a hint of disappointment in them. She knew Ron to get jealous from time to time, even competitive. But what was there to be disappointed about?

But before she could dwell on it for too long, the post owls arrived, bringing with them two identical packages for Harry and Ron.

"Oh good," said Hermione, delighted as she saw the new copies of _Advanced Potion-Making. _"Now you can give that graffitied copy back."

"Are you mad?" said Harry. "I'm keeping it! Look, I've thought it out—"

Feeling utterly scandalized, Hermione watched as Harry magically broke off the cover of the new Potions book. It was almost painful to witness.

And to add to her horror, he proceeded to switch the cover from the Half-Blood Prince's book with the new book.

She had held on to some small hope that he would perhaps get rid of the wretched thing, but now that hope was gone.

* * *

><p>She didn't know why she'd done it. It was a completely irresponsible, disobedient, dishonest, reckless thing to do. So why did she do it?<p>

"His sister didn't really try," said McLaggen menacingly. "She gave him an easy save."

"Rubbish," said Harry coldly. "That was the one he nearly missed."

Hermione watched as McLaggen took a step nearer Harry, and she immediately reached for her wand.

"Give me another go."

"No," said Harry. "You've had your go. You saved four. Ron saved five. Ron's Keeper, he won it fair and square. Get out of my way."

For a moment, Hermione thought McLaggen might punch Harry, but thankfully he contented himself with an ugly grimace and stormed away. She let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding and made her way over to the team.

"You did brilliantly, Ron!"

Ron seemed to look happier than she'd seen him in a long time as he grinned at the team and then at her.

And suddenly she didn't feel quite as guilty about Confunding McLaggen, anymore. She knew Ron had the talent, he just needed the confidence. And besides McLaggen was a downright arse in every sense of the word. Nobody would have wanted him on the team, anyway. She'd done the right thing. At least she hoped so...

But as they came into the castle after visiting Hagrid's they spotted none other than McLaggen entering the Great Hall. It took him two attempts to get through the doors. He ricocheted off the frame on the first attempt. To Hermione's relief, Ron merely guffawed gloatingly and strode off into the Hall after him.

Certain she was off the hook, she made to quickly follow him inside, when she felt someone catch her arm and hold her back.

Her heart instantly sped up as she came face to face with Harry.

"What?" she asked defensively, hoping he wouldn't notice her quick pulse beating in the wrist where his hand was still wrapped around.

"If you ask me," said Harry quietly, "McLaggen looks like he _was_ Confunded this morning. And he was standing right in front of where you were sitting."

_Oh crap._

Hermione could feel herself blushing from embarrassment.

_Well, no point denying it..._

"Oh, all right then, I did it," she whispered. "But you should have heard the way he was talking about Ron and Ginny! Anyway, he's got a nasty temper, you saw how he reacted when he didn't get in—you wouldn't have wanted someone like that on the team."

"No," said Harry. "No, I suppose that's true. But wasn't that dishonest, Hermione? I mean you're a prefect, aren't you?"

_Oh my God...he's right. I'm a terrible person. I should just turn in my badge right now. Better yet...I should turn myself into Dumbledore. Oh shoot...he's away from the castle...I guess McGonagall will have to do..._

_Shut. Up._

And that was when she noticed Harry smirking at her.

"Oh, be quiet," she snapped, shoving him in the shoulder as he chuckled softly.

"What are you two doing?" demanded Ron, reappearing in the doorway to the Great Hall and looking suspicious.

"Nothing," said Harry and Hermione together, as they hurried after Ron.

And all throughout the rest of dinner, Hermione could not for the life of her get rid of the excited bubble that had formed in the pit of her stomach (Not that she really wanted to). Because all the while, one question seemed to be forming in her mind:

_Did Harry and I just...flirt?_

* * *

><p>AN: I'M SORRY. I know I took forever to update and I'm so very sorry. School is my excuse and I hate it but I promise I'll try harder to next time! After next week, I'm hoping to update AT LEAST once every two weeks? Yes, reality sucks. But anyway, I really want to thank all of you for the feedback I recieved last chapter. It was fantastic and helped me so incredibly much and I hope you guys can continue to praise, criticize, correct, comment, and just say whatever is on your minds because that's what I want to hear. Thank you again and I hope you enjoy this chapter!


	23. Chapter 23

_They say there is a time and place for everything. Sometimes, you may want something so badly. But you know in your heart that at that moment, you simply cannot have it. Because there are other things that are just more important. _

_So you wait. You wait and wait, and you continue waiting until one day, the time and place are finally right. _

* * *

><p>"Harry, Harry, just the man I was hoping to see!"<p>

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stopped abruptly on their way to the Gryffindor table as Professor Slughorn appeared in front of them, blocking their path.

"I was hoping to catch you before dinner! What do you say to a spot of supper tonight in my rooms instead?" Slughorn enquired, proceeding to name off quite an unpleasant list of fellow attendees, and making Hermione secretly grateful not to be in Harry's shoes at the moment. "And I hope very much that Miss Granger will favour me by coming, too."

_Oh, splendid_, Hermione thought sarcastically.

"I can't come, Professor," said Harry at once. "I've got a detention with Professor Snape."

It took all Hermione's self-control not to let out a loud groan. _No, no, I am not dining with McLaggen and Zabini, alone!_

"Oh dear!" said Slughorn, dramatically. "Well, I'll just have to have a word with Severus and explain the situation. Yes...I'll see you both later!"

Hermione waited until Slughorn was out of sight before turning to Harry. "Oh, I wish you could come," she said gloomily. "I don't want to go on my own!"

"I doubt you'll be alone, Ginny'll probably be invited," snapped Ron.

Hermione glanced guiltily at Ron. It had been quite obvious that Slughorn had blatantly ignored him. "It's just some stupid party, Ron," she said quietly to him later, as he continued to stare moodily at his plate. "I mean, honestly, if you really want to hang out with McLaggen and Zabini, I'm sure we could arrange something."

Ron looked as if he was trying awfully hard to fight back the amused smile that was forming on his face."Very funny."

"I'm glad I could humour you," she said brightly. "Now stop sulking and eat your peas."

Feeling someone's eyes on her, Hermione looked up across the table. And sure enough, she spotted Lavender Brown staring at her and Ron quite intently. Hermione flashed her a quick, awkward smile before returning to her dinner.

* * *

><p>"You know, this isn't fair!" Hermione exclaimed, sitting on a chair near the fire and setting her bag down with a huff.<p>

"How is it my fault?" Harry replied innocently. "First I had detention with Snape, and now I have Quidditch practice."

Hermione threw him a frosty look. "Oh, don't give me that. This is the third practice you've scheduled at the exact same time as Slughorn's little get-togethers. I mean, honestly, you're not being very subtle."

"Subtlety isn't really my main concern at the moment," Harry stated. "And anyway, if you were on the team you wouldn't have this problem. Look at Ginny."

Hermione snorted. "You act as if I actually had some sort of chance of getting on. I hate to break it to you, Harry, but my flying skills since this summer haven't improved much."

Harry chuckled softly. "You weren't _that_ bad."

"I almost fell of the broom three times."

"Right...well, you're good at everything else," Harry shrugged.

Hermione suddenly felt warm all over and was trying very hard to look at anywhere but Harry. Which turned out to be somewhat difficult what with him leaning back on the couch with his legs resting on the table in front of him quite attractively.

_Okay, how in the world is that attractive?_

_It's Harry, just go with it._

"Hey, Hermione...Harry."

Hermione looked up to see Ginny walking towards them. Out of the corner of her eye, she also noticed Harry immediately sit up much straighter and give her a small wave.

"Hi," he replied, somewhat eagerly.

"Have either of you seen Seamus?" Ginny asked conversationally. "I have to kill him."

"I think I saw him in the library earlier," Hermione stated.

"Excellent, thanks," Ginny said. "Well, I've got to go. I'll see you at practice, Harry."

"Yeah, see you..."

But Ginny had already left before she could hear Harry's response.

"Wonder what Seamus's done..." Hermione said, flipping through her Transfiguration book, unceremoniously.

She looked up when Harry didn't respond. "Harry?"

His head snapped up quickly as if he'd been in deep thought about something. "What?"

She stared at him for a moment, and then sighed softly. "Never mind."

Gathering up her things, she made her way up to her dormitory to drop everything off before going to Slughorn's supper.

_Another exciting day with McLaggen invading my personal space and Zabini sending me glares across the table. I can't wait. _

"Hermione?"

She turned around at the sound of her name and spotted Parvati by the door.

"Parvati...Hi...Is there something you need?" Hermione enquired, not quite sure what her roommate would want from her.

"Actually...yes. Could I ask you something?"

"Um, sure, I guess," she replied, wondering what subject she needed tutoring in.

"Okay well...I feel kind of weird asking you this, but...I need to know. Do you...do you fancy Ron?" Parvati asked unexpectedly.

"Excuse me?" Hermione exclaimed, completely taken aback.

"Oh no...you do ,don't you?"

Hermione suddenly realized something and groaned aloud. "You haven't been talking to Ginny, have you?"

"Ginny Weasley? No...Why, does she know, too?"

"What? No! That's not what I—"

"Parvati? What are you still doing up here?"

Both girls turned their heads quickly towards the door to see Lavender enter the room.

"Nothing! I...I couldn't find my wand..."

"It's in your pocket."

"Erm, yeah...because I just found it. Well, I'll see you later, Hermione."

"No, wait!" Hermione called after her.

But Parvati had already left the room.

_Great! Just bloody fantastic._

Hermione sat on her bed with her face in her hands, letting out another long groan.

And as she sat there, she had to wonder to herself. Why was it that no one ever suspected her of fancying Harry?

* * *

><p>October had quickly fallen upon the castle, and the first Hogsmeade trip of the year had finally arrived. Hermione woke up that morning feeling more exhausted than usual, and briefly considered the possibility of lying in her four-poster all day rather than propelling herself into the cold autumn air of the village.<p>

Sighing, she gathered up her energy and untangled herself from her warm covers. Lavender and Parvati had thankfully already gone down to breakfast, leaving a pleasantly empty shower for her to waste away under for as long as she desired.

After a record breaking twenty minutes, she got dressed, threw her hair in a hasty bun, and made her way to the Great Hall.

As she approached the Gryffindor table, she could hear laughter resonating clearly from where Harry and Ron were sitting.

"What's so funny?" she asked expectantly, taking a seat next to Ron.

Ron merely started laughing once more, however, and she looked curiously up at Harry who had a smile on his face.

"What?" she prodded, starting to get slightly annoyed.

After Ron had settled down some, he began to explain to Hermione just what was causing both him and Harry so much amusement.

Unfortunately, he didn't seem to notice that Hermione was far from amused. Quite the contrary, her jaw was clenched tightly and she was staring at Harry with a cold, hard look that she didn't think she was capable of giving him.

"...and then there was another flash of light and I landed on the bed again!" Ron grinned, explaining the story of his morning wake-up call, courtesy of Harry.

"Was this spell, by any chance, another one from that potion book of yours?" she asked Harry, evenly.

He frowned at her. "Always jump to the worst conclusion, don't you?"

"Was it?" she demanded, not quite caring about the connotation of his words at the moment.

"Well...yeah, it was, but so what?"

Hermione stared at him, dumbfounded.

How could he? How could he just use a spell from some book that seemed to have a mind of its own without even knowing what it was for! How could he possibly be so careless?

It angered her in a way she would have never expected. Here she was worrying over his safety every waking moment of every waking day, poring over mountains of books trying to learn any and every bit information that might help them, trying to be there for him in any way possible, while he went around casting unknown spells out of a potentially dangerous book and having a great laugh about afterwards.

She wasn't used to arguing with Harry. In fact, she hated it. It made her feel cold and empty inside, and rather guilty, as well. Why? She didn't know. But she just hated it. She hated arguing with him and she hated feeling guilty.

_Breath, Hermione, just breathe. You're overreacting. You're stressed. You're exhausted. And I'm pretty sure you're PMSing. _

_Maybe I should have stayed in bed all day, after all..._

And as the day wore on, Hermione began to wish more and more that he she had simply given in to her desires that morning because things only seemed to be getting worse.

In fact, in hindsight, it had been the worst trip to Hogsmeade that they had ever embarked on.

It had started off quite normally, Hermione having forgiven Harry. But as they met Mundungus along the way, just outside the Three Broomsticks, things began to go downhill.

"Mundungus!" Harry exclaimed, realizing who it was.

The moment Mundungus laid eyes on Harry, Hermione knew there was something wrong. The ancient suitcase he had been holding just moments before dropped to the ground and burst open, releasing what looked like the entire contents of a junk shop window.

Hermione took in the man's appearance. She had never liked him much, but today he held an even more undesirable air about him. He kept fidgeting and glancing shiftily around him as if eager to be gone.

She saw Ron stoop down out of the corner of her eye and pick up something silver. "Hang on," he said slowly. "This looks familiar..."

She looked down at the object in his hands and immediately felt her stomach turn over uneasily. It was a goblet with the Black family crest on it. And before Hermione could even turn her head to look at Harry, he was already making his way over to Mundungus.

She watched in horror as Harry pinned him against the wall by the throat, holding him fast with one hand while pulling out his wand.

"Harry!" she cried in shock, her heart beating frantically against her ribcage.

But he didn't seem to be listening to her. All his attention was on Mundungus at the moment, their faces nose to nose.

Hermione didn't recall ever witnessing Harry in such a state. He looked ravenous, as if he were ready to kill. And for one fraction of a second, she was almost afraid of him.

"H-Harry, you mustn't!" she practically choked out as Mundungus started turning blue. And she was just about to reach out for his arm, when she felt someone else's grab her own. "Ron, what are you—?"

But before she could finish her sentence, there was a bang, and Harry's hands immediately flew off Mundungus, who seizing the opportunity, Disapparated away with a loud _CRACK._

"COME BACK, YOU THIEVING—!"

"There's no point, Harry. He'll probably be in London by now...There's no point yelling."

Hermione looked up into Tonks's face with surprise, her pulse not yet recovering from what she had just witnessed. She barely even registered the conversation taking place until Tonks suggested they get out of the cold.

"Come on, Harry," Hermione said hesitantly, this time taking his arm and leading him inside.

He didn't seem to want to look at her, and she could tell he was still fuming. "Go and sit down, I'll get you a drink," she offered.

After they finished their butterbeers in somewhat of a subdued silence, and Harry had calmed down significantly, they exited the Three Broomsticks, following Katie Bell and her friend out of the door.

Hermione took periodic glances at Harry as they trudged up towards the castle through the swirling sleet. For a long time she had wondered whether or not he had completely gotten over Sirius's death. They hadn't really talked about it all since the summer, and Hermione found herself deeply regretting that now, for Harry was still clearly hurting.

And for the first time in a while, she found herself missing Sirius desperately, as well. In the short time she had known him, Hermione really grew to appreciate his way of making even the most dreadful and hopeless situations seem bearable. He had such an erratic personality, and yet somehow it was calming.

The thing that made Hermione's heart ache the most, however, was the fact that Harry needed Sirius now more than ever. But he couldn't have him.

And as she continued to get lost in her thoughts, the image of Harry's hand wrapped around Mundungus's throat seemed to be permanently replaying itself in Hermione's mind. A part of her was still quite staggered by his reaction, but another, perhaps larger part, couldn't really blame him. She had no idea what it was like to be in Harry's position. She had no idea was he was feeling. Whether he thought and worried over things as incessantly as she did. Whether he had any hope for his future at all...

And suddenly she felt even guiltier over their argument that morning. She was generally somewhat impatient by nature, and unfortunately for Harry and Ron, they were usually the ones who got the worst of it. Even if they did deserve it most of the time.

Nevertheless, Hermione leaned in closer to Harry so as to apologize, but before she could even open her mouth, a sudden shrill scream that sent shivers down Hermione's spine pierced through the roaring wind.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione watched in horror as Katie Bell rose into the air, continuously screaming as if something were causing her deep anguish. They grabbed onto Katie's legs, pulling her down with great effort as she writhed about in their grasp.

After lowering her to the ground, Harry rushed to find help and came back merely seconds later with Hagrid by his side.

"Get back!" shouted Hagrid. "Lemme see her!"

Hagrid stared at Katie for a second, then without a word, bent down, scooped her into his arms, and ran off toward the castle with her.

Hermione seemed to have witnessed the entire scene as if it were in slow motion. Everything had happened so fast and she had barely even registered it. The only thing she seemed aware of at the moment was Katie's wailing friend, and she quickly hurried over to put a comforting arm around her shoulders.

An image of a screaming and writhing Harry or Ron seemed to be blinding her mind's eye as Leanne's wails continued to ring in her ears. She couldn't bear the image and immediately closed her eyes to try to replace it with something else.

"It's Leanne, isn't it?" Hermione asked gently.

The girl nodded.

"Did it just happen all of a sudden, or—?"

"It was when the package tore," sobbed Leanne.

Hermione saw Ron bend down to observe the now sodden brown-paper package on the ground, his hand outstretched. She was just about to warn him not to go near it, when Harry immediately seized his arm and pulled him back.

"_Don't touch it!" _Harry crouched down, observing the package from a slight distance. "I've seen that before. It was on the display in Borgin and Burkes ages ago. The label said it was cursed. Katie must have touched it."

Walking up to the castle with the package safely wrapped in a scarf, Harry turned to Ron and Hermione.

"Malfoy knows about the necklace. _This_ is what he was buying that day we followed him! He remembered it and he went back for it!"

After everything they had gone through that day, Hermione wasn't really in the mood to deal with Harry's Malfoy-accusations at the moment. However, as they were brought into McGonagall's office to explain what had happened to Katie, he couldn't seem to let go of the idea of Malfoy sending the necklace.

"This is a very serious accusation, Potter," said McGonagall. "Do you have any proof?"

_No_, Hermione thought, rolling her eyes.

"No," said Harry, "but..." and he told her about following Malfoy to Borgin and Burkes and the conversation they had overheard.

On any other normal day, Hermione was sure she would have at least given Harry's theory some sort of consideration, but today simply was not that day. She couldn't even remember the last time she had experienced such a range of emotions in such a short span of time. And at this point, she was currently back at frustration.

"You saw Malfoy leaving the shop with a similar package?" McGonagall asked Harry.

_No._

"No, Professor, he told Borgin to keep it in the shop for him—"

"But Harry," Hermione interrupted, "Borgin asked him if he wanted to take it with him, and Malfoy said no—"

"Because he didn't want to touch it, obviously!" said Harry angrily.

"What he actually said was, 'How would I look carrying that down the street?" Hermione replied, her words growing slightly heated.

"And anyway, it would be all wrapped up, so he wouldn't have to touch it, and quite easy to hide inside a cloak, so nobody would see it! I think whatever he reserved was noisy or bulky, something he knew would draw attention to him if he carried it down the street—and in any case," she pressed on loudly, before Harry could interrupt. "I asked Borgin about the necklace, don't you remember? When I went in to try and find out what Malfoy had asked him to keep, I saw it there, and Borgin just told me the price, he didn't say it was already sold or anything—"

"Well, you were being really obvious," said Harry, his voice rather loud now. "He realized what you were up to within about five seconds, of course he wasn't going to tell you—anyway, Malfoy could've sent off for it since—"

"That's enough!" said Professor McGonagall, as Hermione opened her mouth to retort, looking furious. She dismissed the three of them from her office after explaining to Harry that Malfoy wasn't in Hogsmeade today, to begin with, but that she appreciated him telling her everything.

Needless to say, Harry left the room looking quite angry at both her and Ron for siding with McGonagall. But for the first time in a long time, Hermione just didn't care.

Deep down, she knew she was being somewhat stubborn, but there were simply no facts or any sort of evidence to back up Harry's claims, whatsoever. He was being completely and utterly irrational about the entire situation, basing everything off a gut feeling and one overheard conversation on a train. And that simply wasn't enough!

And above all, the thing that angered Hermione most was the fact that Harry was wasting all his energy on this far-fetched theory rather than putting it into something useful. It was like he needed to know anything and everything about what Malfoy was doing these days. Anytime he would so much as hear Malfoy's name in conversation, he would go on into a tirade about him.

It was annoying, it was frustrating, and it was exhausting. And it bothered her deeply. For the same reason that the incident with Harry's Potions book had bothered her. It was like Hermione was the only one worrying about the future. It was like she was the only one who cared.

_Maybe that's the problem. Maybe I just care too much. _

Not for the first time, Hermione wished desperately that she had someone, anyone to talk to about what she was feeling. But there was absolutely no one. Not even her mum. After all, how could she explain to her that Harry's life was currently in danger?

Racing up the staircase to her empty dormitory, Hermione did the only thing she could think of. Taking a seat at the desk by the window, she pulled out a piece of parchment, dipped her quill in the ink well, and began writing.

_My name is Hermione Granger. Harry Potter is my best friend. I fancy him._

Hermione gazed upon those three sentences for what seemed like ages. They were so simple and so clear. And she wished hopelessly that life could be like that, too.

_He's a marked man. He always has been. But these days, his fate draws ever nearer. And that thought terrifies me to death. He's only sixteen years old and he's expected to fight one of the most powerful wizards in history? Tell me how that's fair. Tell me how that makes any sense at all. Please tell me how there's any chance that he could win this!_

Tears were quickly beginning to form in Hermione's eyes as she wrote down the treacherous admission.

_I've never said it before. I've never even thought it before until now. But how can he do it? Is it possible? Can he defeat Voldemort? I know I'm a terrible person and a terrible friend for even writing down such things. I should have faith in him. I should trust him. But it's so hard when I think about all the evil things Voldemort has done._

_And you want to know the worst part? I think all this fear is starting to affect me and the people around me, specifically Harry. It's just that...I worry about him _so much. _And when he does stupid and dangerous things it makes me angry. Doesn't he know how much I care about him? Doesn't he know how much I want him to be prepared for what's to come? Doesn't he know that I would do absolutely anything on the face of this earth to help him? _

_It scares me, the way I feel about him. I mean it hasn't even been a year since I realized that I fancied him to begin with. Of course, even if I didn't fancy him, I would still be there for him. He is my best friend, after all. But it's still different...I can't fathom the idea of him dying. I can't fathom a life without him. Because he _is_ my life. Do you think that's unhealthy? Do you think I've gone mad? I'm only seventeen...how can I possibly feel all these things? _

_Then again, maybe age doesn't really matter. Harry, Ron, and I have been through more things than people three times our age have gone through. Doesn't that mean we should have the ability to feel the way people three times our age can feel? _

_But even so, maybe this is dangerous...I mean, I've always been a very objective person, haven't I? A logical, fair, and rational person. These days I find myself being the complete opposite. I'm justifying things that shouldn't be justified. Just look at what happened today. Harry could have _killed_ Mundungus if Tonks hadn't stepped in. And yet, I justified his actions. You can say that's what any good friend would do, but that's not what I've ever done. I don't know...I'm just so confused. I'm so utterly confused. _

_Maybe I need to take a break. It's just too hard feeling this way about Harry at a time like this. I already care so much about him. I can't let my feelings add on to that. I can't let them blind me. _

_Because I think I'm in love with him._

Hermione stared at the parchment with surprise, as if her hand had somehow written those words of its own accord.

"Love?" she whispered to herself, then immediately looked around as if someone could hear her. But the room was quite empty.

She was in love with him. She was in love with Harry. And she had no idea when it had happened. Somehow the feeling scared her and comforted her at the same time. But after another moment's thought, all it seemed to do was leave an emptiness inside of her. Because she knew what she had to do.

_I'm in love with him._

_But right now, he needs Hermione Granger, his best friend. And nothing more than that. _

_So that's what I'll be. I'll be his best friend. _

Tears were now flowing freely down Hermione's face. Dipping her quill once more into the ink well, her eyes travelled to the top of the page where she carefully wrote down two final words in the heading.

_A Memoir_

* * *

><p>AN: Wow, that was very depressing to write. And I apologize...but you gotta do what you gotta do. I'm sorry if you completely hate this chapter and the 6th book in general but if its any consolation, I'm pretty sure Hermione hates it more. Anddd that's all I have to say for now. Thank you for all your feedback last chapter! It is VERY much appreciated as always:)


	24. Chapter 24

_I don't expect you to understand. Because I can't explain. I knew it was what I had to do. I knew it like I knew that I loved him. I knew it _because _I loved him. _

_He didn't return my feelings. He only saw me as a friend, maybe even a sister. And it hurt me, just like it would hurt any sane human being. But at that point in time, I couldn't bring myself to admit just how much it did. Instead I chose to ignore it. Just like I chose to ignore that I had fallen in love with him. Because hurt can destroy things. It can cloud your mind and manipulate your actions. _

_And at such a critical time, I simply refused to let it do that. Because despite what most people may believe, there are more important things than giving in to your own desires. _

* * *

><p><em>You don't like him anymore. You don't like him anymore. You don't like him anymore. <em>

_But I do. For Merlin's sake, I'm in love with him! _

_Oh honestly, do you r_eally_ believe that?_

_Of course I do. Because if I wasn't...then I wouldn't be doing this. _

_Well how can you just stop being in love with someone? _

This was precisely the question that plagued Hermione's every waking moment. How could she stop her feelings for Harry when anything he did set her heart aflutter? When he made her heat up and blush and fill her with excitement over the smallest, most insignificant things. How was she supposed to just stop reacting to his piercing green gaze and his intoxicating familiar scent and the way his arm and leg would brush against hers by accident?

How was she supposed to simply stop loving him?

"_Hermione, how am I supposed to get over him?" Ginny asked, her eyes downcast as she stared out of the window miserably. "I like him so much, but he doesn't even know I exist..."_

"_Of course he does, Ginny! You're—"_

"_Ron's little sister and nothing more. He doesn't even consider me a friend. I mean, I don't really blame him...I can't even form a coherent sentence around him. God, he must think I'm so pathetic!" she exclaimed, burying her face in her hands._

"_Oh, don't be so dramatic. You just need to be yourself. He doesn't know the real you, Ginny! He doesn't know what an amazing personality you have. You need to show him."_

"_But how can I? I'm always so _nervous _around him," Ginny said, finally looking up._

_Hermione sighed deeply. "Maybe...maybe you should try seeing other people. Take a break from Harry for a while. Focus on someone else. I know it's probably not going to be as easy as it sounds, but I'm sure there's _someone _in this school who'll catch your eye. Someone who could get your mind off Harry. And hey, maybe he'll even start to get jealous when he sees you with another guy and realize what he's been missing all along," Hermione finished with a mischievous smirk. _

_Ginny gave a humourless laugh. "Yeah I don't know about that, but...maybe you're right. Maybe I should just...see other people," she said in a glum sort of voice. _

_Hermione gave her a kind smile. "You won't regret this."_

"Merlin..." Hermione proclaimed breathlessly as the memory replayed vividly in her mind.

Without another second's thought, she rushed out of the dormitory and down the stairs where she quickly spotted Ginny and Dean sitting in a secluded corner of the common room. Dean whispered something into Ginny's ear, causing her to giggle, an action which made Hermione roll her eyes despite herself.

"Ginny, can we talk?" Hermione asked as she planted herself directly in front of the affectionate couple.

"Er...sure," the red head replied uncertainly, taken aback by Hermione's sudden appearance.

There was a moment of silence as both girls stared at Dean who appeared quite oblivious to the situation at hand.

"What?" he asked finally, in somewhat of a defensive tone.

Ginny scoffed loudly. "You heard the woman," she stated. "Leave!"

Dean simply looked confused, but did as he was told, throwing them a bewildered look behind him.

"Men..." Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "So, what's the problem?"

"Who said there was a problem?" Hermione replied quickly, choosing not to look into Ginny's eyes. "Maybe I just want to talk…"

"Hermione, if you interrupted a potential snog session with my boyfriend just to 'talk', then—"

"All right, fine. I wanted to ask you something."

"Ask away," Ginny said with a somewhat bored expression.

"Okay…well…erm…the thing is—"

"Bloody hell, Hermione, just spit it out."

Hermione swallowed slowly, doing her best to maintain her composure. "Well, this is going to seem like a very odd question, but...I'm just curious."

"Continue," Ginny said, still appearing bored.

"How did you get over Harry?"

Instantly, Ginny's face flushed a deep crimson colour. "Sorry?"

"Well...you fancied him for quite a while, didn't you? And I know I gave you that advice about seeing other people, but I was just wondering if that was what actually did it."

"Why are you asking me this?" Ginny said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

It was Hermione's turn to blush as she tried searching for some reasonable answer. "I-I told you...I was just curious..."

"You've never been curious before," Ginny said, staring suspiciously back at her.

"Can you just answer the question?" Hermione demanded.

Ginny continued staring at her for a moment until she finally let out a long breath she seemed to have been holding. "I never did," she said in a small voice.

Hermione immediately felt an uncomfortable sensation in the pit of her stomach. "What?" she answered breathlessly.

"I never did get over him," Ginny said, staring fixedly at a spot on the carpet.

"But...Michael...and...and Dean! What about Dean? I thought you really liked him!"

"I did! I _do_," Ginny quickly amended. She then sighed, closing her eyes. "Look, I fancy Dean _a lot_. But...he's just not the person I picture in my mind when I think about...well...having a family someday."

"And Harry is?"

Ginny's face turned a shocking beet red. "That's not what I said."

"But that's what you meant."

"No...I..." Ginny faltered. "I don't even know what I meant, Hermione. He's...he's important to me, okay? He's a part of me that I can't get rid of. A part I don't w_ant_ to get rid of."

"So...what do you plan on doing? Are you just going to ignore this forever?"

Ginny audibly gulped, an action that might have been somewhat humorous on a different occasion, but instead just made Hermione more uneasy.

"You told me once that Harry wasn't ready. You said he wasn't mature enough. So, I said I would wait." Ginny stared straight into Hermione's eyes. "I'm still waiting."

* * *

><p>Hermione wasn't sure what to think or how to feel. She'd been stupid to believe that Ginny had simply forgotten about Harry. There were so many moments where it had been practically obvious that she had not. Yet somehow, Hermione hadn't noticed.<p>

And as she sat down across the lake on that cold afternoon, she realized that a part of her had chosen not to notice. Or rather, to simply ignore it.

She was quite good at ignoring things, it appeared.

But what did this all mean? So what if Ginny still fancied Harry? It's not as if she should care. After all, she was supposed to be getting over him...

Yet, why did her heart suddenly feel as if it were squeezing itself into painful knots? Why did she feel sick to her stomach? Why was her pulse pounding loudly in her ears?

_You know why. _

Hermione closed her eyes, taking in long deep breaths.

_Because he fancies her back. _

And just like that, tears were falling rapidly down her cheeks. She felt hollow. Hollow and cold.

She saw brief images flash before her eyes. Images of Harry stuttering and fumbling and blushing. Images of him smiling unusual radiant smiles. Images of him doing strange, awkward, stupid things because he was Harry and because he fancied Ginny.

"God, I am so pathetic..." Hermione whispered furiously to herself.

As she sat there, with her head against a tree, looking up with tears in her eyes, all she could do was wonder why. Why was it that she didn't know? Why was it that everything seemed to be sneaking up on her these days? Not too long ago, she could read people like she could read an open book. Yet now, everything was so unclear. It was like...she'd been in an entirely different world and was just now coming back.

It was the same story again and again. It was the same pile of books stacked beneath her bed. The same sleepless night. The same worry and fear.

It was consuming her. It was taking over her entire life.

But what could she do? She'd been this way for as long as she could remember. Drowning herself in her studies. Giving all her energy to the task at hand.

She was obsessed.

And of course, adding on the fact that she was quite probably in love with Harry. While Harry couldn't care less about her...

It was too much.

It was all too much.

She couldn't take it.

She couldn't...

"Hermione?"

Her head instantly whipped around at the sound of her name.

"What the bloody hell are you sitting out here in the cold for?"

Quickly wiping away the tears from her eyes, Hermione looked up in surprise at Ron. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question," he said, gesturing towards her position by the tree.

It was then that Hermione noticed the broom in his hand. "You were practicing?" she asked, quickly grasping on to the subject change.

"A bit," Ron replied looking somewhat bashful.

Hermione smiled at him. "That's nothing to be ashamed of, Ron."

"It will be when I let every goal in this Saturday," he said, not looking at her.

She sighed, genuinely feeling bad for him. "You want to sit down?" she offered, deciding she could use the company.

"What, and freeze my arse off? No thank you."

And just like that all sympathy was lost.

"You know, it may come as a surprise, but they have invented heating charms," Hermione replied, scowling at him.

Ron rolled his eyes but sat down nonetheless.

Neither of them said anything for a moment, both content to simply stare out at the lake, lost in their own individual thoughts.

"You don't have to be afraid you know," Hermione said quietly after some time.

"Of what?"

"Of the match," she said, turning to look at him.

She could see annoyance flash across Ron's features.

"Look, I know you think it's just some stupid game but—"

"No, that's not what I meant," Hermione calmly replied.

"So, what then?" he asked, somewhat forcefully.

"You're _good_, Ron. You're really good. I've seen you play when you're just having fun. When there aren't a thousand pairs of eyes on you. I know you love it. For Merlin's sake, you could spend hours talking about Quidditch. It makes you happy. But for some reason when you're up there in front of everyone, when the situation becomes more...serious, it's almost as if you begin to _hate _it. Because there's just too much pressure, too many things that could go wrong. You just want to quit..."

Ron stared at her intently throughout her entire proclamation, his forehead creased in deep thought. "So, what are you saying?" he asked quietly.

"Honestly...I'm not even sure," Hermione replied with a dry chuckle. "Just...just try as hard as you can to ignore the pressure. I know that's almost impossible. Believe me, I know. But maybe instead of focusing on that, focus on how much you _love_ doing what you do."

Another moment of silence fell upon them. Then:

"You really think I'm that good?" Ron asked.

There was an earnest, almost hopeful look in his eyes that made Hermione's heart soften. "Of course, Ron," she said with conviction. "Hasn't Harry told you that a thousand times already?"

"Well yeah, but...you never have," he stated, not looking her in the eyes.

"I haven't?" she asked, confused.

"No, not really..."

"Oh...well, I'm sorry...But why should that matter, anyway?" she said, pushing the thought aside.

"Because it does. I dunno, it's just...different...coming from you," he stated, finally bringing his eyes up to meet hers.

She'd never quite noticed how blue they were until this moment. Perhaps because they seemed so unfamiliar to her. It was like she was staring into someone else's eyes. It was still Ron, but something about him was just different.

And it wasn't really all that bad of a difference...

"_...Maybe you should try seeing other people. Take a break from Harry for a while. Focus on someone else..."_

_Focus on someone else..._

_Focus on someone else?_

_Yes..._

_No!_

_Maybe..?_

_You're out of your mind._

"I-I've got to go," Hermione said abruptly, getting up swiftly from her spot on the ground and leaving Ron oblivious to the fact that anything was wrong.

Once she made it into the castle, she practically ran through the corridors (blatantly ignoring the no-running-in-the-corridor rule) until she reached the portrait of the Fat Lady who she nearly screamed the password at, and continued up to her dormitory where she threw herself onto her bed quite unceremoniously.

"I've lost it, I've completely lost it," she whispered to herself as she fisted her hands in her wild mess of hair.

_No, no! Absolutely not. Ronald Weasley is the _last_ person I should be looking to as a distraction. It's not as if I should be looking for a distraction, anyway! Isn't that wrong, morally? Should I really be stringing guys along like that?_

_Wasn't that the exact advice you gave Ginny?_

_I did not advise Ginny to string guys along! I suggested she try to get to know someone. See if she fancies them. Give it a try. That's all! _

_So aren't you doing the same thing, then?_

_I am not doing _anything_, thank you very much. _

_Well...would it hurt? _

_Why would I possibly want to enter a relationship right now!? My life is complicated enough as it is!_

_Then how exactly do you plan on getting over Harry? _

Hermione closed her eyes, covering her face with her hands.

"I don't know. I just don't know..."

* * *

><p>There was one thing Hermione had been certain of from that afternoon by the lake. She and Ron had shared a real moment unlike any they had ever experienced. And the more she thought about it, the more she realized that she had not, in fact, seen a different person behind his eyes that day. Rather, she saw the r<em>eal<em> person behind his eyes. Something about the look he had given her was just so...honest.

Therefore, she was at a complete and utter loss. In the span of just one day, it seemed like everything had disappeared and become some figment of her imagination.

He was cold. He was distant. He was everything but the person she had seen that afternoon. And for the life of her, she could not understand why.

It drove her to such a point that for the rest of that week, it was all she could think about. Again and again, she replayed their conversation in her head. Searching for something, anything that may have upset him.

But there was nothing.

So _why_ was he acting as if he hated her? It simply did not make sense.

"Ughhh!"

Hermione looked up from her spot at the table to find Ginny slumped down in the chair in front of her. "What's wrong?" she asked, surprised.

The girl sighed, rubbing her temples as if she was suffering from an extreme headache. "I just don't understand..."

Hermione waited for an explanation, but none come. "What is it you don't understand?"

"Your bloody friends! My brother, Harry!" she exclaimed. "How in the world do you manage to put up with those two? I would have given up ages ago!"

"Ginny...what are on about?" Hermione asked utterly confused.

The red head sighed again. "Okay, the other day after practice, Dean and I thought it would be...nice...to unwind a bit, you know? So, we found this _very deserted corridor_ to do just that. Then, surprise! Ron and Harry walk in as Dean and I are getting quite heated."

Hermione immediately grimaced at the thought.

"Then, my prat of a brother starts going off about how he doesn't want me snogging people in public. The nerve!"

"Then what happened?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

"Well, we said a few nasty things to each other, I stormed off, and now we're not talking," she replied, crossing her arms stubbornly over her chest. "I mean, just because he's never snogged anything but his pillow, doesn't mean he has to go around controlling _my_ life. God, he is so _infuriating_!"

"Well, what about Harry, what's he done?" Hermione asked, able to guess the answer already.

Ginny let out a noise that sounded somewhat like hiss. "Oh, don't even get me started on him!" she said. "Ever since the whole run-in, he's been completely avoiding me! He won't even look at me. It's like he's disgusted or something, I don't even know. Maybe he thinks I'm some sort of slag, as well."

"Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed. "Don't call yourself that!"

"Whatever," Ginny said, "I can't stand the pair of them at the moment."

"This will all blow over, I promise. Just focus on your game tomorrow, and let's hope Ronald doesn't let his emotions get in the way of his performance," Hermione said, practically spitting out Ron's name.

* * *

><p>The morning of the match, Hermione headed down to breakfast somewhat later than usual as she had been doing for the past couple of days. She'd simply grown tired of Ron's unpleasant behaviour, and preferred to interact with him as little as possible. Nevertheless, she paused on her way up the table that morning, standing behind Ron.<p>

"How are you both feeling?" she asked, her eyes on the back of Ron's head.

"Fine," Harry replied.

Hermione looked at him. He seemed to be concentrating on something.

"There you go, Ron. Drink up," he said, handing Ron a glass of pumpkin juice.

She continued staring curiously at Harry. And that was when she saw it. If she had blinked she might have missed the glint off the small flask of Felix Felicis that Harry had surreptitiously hid in his hand.

_No...he couldn't...he wouldn't!_

Ron had just raised the glass of pumpkin juice to his lips when Hermione spoke sharply. "Don't drink that, Ron!"

Both Harry and Ron looked up at her.

"Why not?" said Ron.

Hermione ignored the harshness in Ron's tone, and instead turned to Harry. "You just put something in his drink."

"Excuse me?" said Harry.

Hermione really wanted nothing more at the moment than to smack Harry hard. "You heard me. I saw you. You just tipped something into Ron's drink. You've got the bottle in your hand right now!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Harry, stowing the little bottle hastily in his pocket.

"Ron, I warn you, don't drink it!" Hermione said again, alarmed.

But Ron picked up the glass, drained it in one gulp, and said, "Stop bossing me around, Hermione."

Looking at the pair of them, she felt as if she'd been slapped across the face. Bending low so that only Harry could hear her, she hissed, "You should be expelled for that. I'd never have believed it of you, Harry!"

"Hark who's talking," he whispered back. "Confunded anyone lately?"

With tears of frustration threatening to spill from her eyes, she stormed up the table as far away from them as possible.

She didn't even want to watch the match anymore, but she decided it was the only way to confirm her suspicions.

As the players flew up to their positions in the sky, she looked over at Ron. For just the briefest of moments, she just knew he was looking straight into her eyes. Even from a distance, she could see something that had been missing for the past couple of days. She could see her best friend.

But just like that, he was gone.

* * *

><p>Not surprisingly, Gryffindor had won the match. And even less surprisingly, Ron had played an absolutely fantastic game. But while other people were cheering madly, Hermione only felt disappointed.<p>

She stood outside the changing rooms, waiting for Harry and Ron to exit. However, when it seemed like they were the only two left, she made her way inside.

Twisting her Gryffindor scarf in her hands, she looked at them with a determined face. "I want a word with you, Harry." She took a deep breath. "You shouldn't have done it. You heard Slughorn, it's illegal."

"What are you going to do, turn us in?" demanded Ron.

"What are you two talking about?" asked Harry.

"You know perfectly well what we're talking about!" said Hermione shrilly. "You spiked Ron's juice with lucky potion at breakfast! Felix Felicis!"

"No, I didn't," said Harry, turning to face them both.

Hermione could feel herself start to heat up with anger. "Yes you did, Harry, and that's why everything went right, there were Slytherin payers missing and Ron saved everything!"

"I didn't put it in!" said Harry, grinning broadly.

Hermione watched as he slipped his hand inside his jacket pocket and drew out the tiny bottle that she had seen in his hand that morning. It was full of golden potion and the cork was still tightly sealed with wax.

"I wanted Ron to think I'd done it, so I faked it when I knew you were looking." He looked at Ron. "You saved everything because you felt lucky. You did it all yourself."

Hermione couldn't believe what she was hearing. She looked at Ron in awe, ready to congratulate him, to tell him she'd known all along he could do it.

Then all of a sudden, he rounded on her, imitating her voice. "_You added Felix Felicis to Ron's juice this morning, that's why he saved everything!_ See! I can save goals without help, Hermione!"

For the second time that day, she felt as if someone had slapped her across the face. "I never said you couldn't—Ron, _you_ thought you'd been given it too!"

But Ron had already strode past her out of the door with his broomstick over his shoulder, leaving Hermione at a complete loss for words.

She stormed out of the changing room, leaving Harry behind. But right now, she didn't care. She didn't care about anyone. She was too tired of caring.

Entering through the portrait hole, she was immediately hit by a wall of noise. The celebration party was in full swing. She tried her best make her way to the spiral staircase that led up to the girl's dormitories, but it felt as if she was attempting to break through a brick wall. So, instead, she settled for a secluded corner of the common room where she hoped no one would see her.

She was just so angry. Why was it that everyone she cared about treated her like dirt? What had she ever done wrong? All she ever wanted to do was help. That's all she ever wanted!

Last year, it was Harry treating her this way. Always blowing up in her face, yelling, screaming. This year it was Ron. What did she do to deserve this? _What did she do?_

Like an idiot she'd gone and fallen in love with Harry. And like a bigger idiot she thought she could get over him. But like a complete and utter fool, she thought that Ron could help her.

The way he had looked at her...no one, _no one_, had ever looked at her like that. And for just one moment, for one maddening, heart-stopping moment, she could have sworn she saw love in his eyes.

But she was so stupid_..._

Suddenly, it seemed as if the entire common room was cheering. She looked around confused, but then she saw it. Right there in the middle of the room was none other than Ron and Lavender, wrapped so closely together it was hard to tell whose hands were whose.

She looked at them. She felt nothing. In fact, she was absolutely numb.

And somehow, like they always did, her eyes found Harry. He was standing next to Ginny, who was telling him something. Something that made him laugh. And Hermione watched as she patted his arm. She watched as his face flushed the lightest of reds.

And she was no longer numb.

Now all she felt was that squeezing sensation around her heart. The nausea inside her stomach. The pain in her chest.

All she felt was hurt.

And she couldn't take it anymore; the common room was just too suffocating. She needed to breathe. Fighting her way through the brick wall of people, she ran towards the portrait hole as fast as she possibly could with tears streaming down her face, and opened the first classroom door she could find.

She took a seat on top of the teacher's desk, pulling her legs close to her body as she rested her head on her knees.

She felt a power surging through her, a raw source of energy that she just needed to be let out. And without even thinking, she pulled out her wand and cried out: "_Oppugno!_"

A small ring of yellow birds flew straight out of her wand and began circling over her head.

"Hermione?"

She looked up at the door surprised.

_Harry_.

She shifted her gaze elsewhere, afraid he would see her tears. "Hello, Harry," she said in a brittle voice. "I was just...practicing."

"Yeah...they're—er—really good..." said Harry.

The two were silent for a moment. She realized she couldn't just explain to him why she was crying. It wasn't as if she could just proclaim her love for him in this empty classroom and then call it a day.

She wondered briefly why he even followed her out of the common room. Did he notice her crying? Did he wonder what was wrong? Did he have any idea in the world why she was so upset at the moment?

No, he couldn't possibly.

She decided to pretend like there was nothing wrong. After all, she was good at pretending, wasn't she? "Ron seems to be enjoying the celebrations."

"Er...does he?" said Harry.

Hermione looked at him strangely. He had obviously seen Ron...everyone had seen Ron. So why was he pretending that he hadn't? "He wasn't exactly hiding it, was—?"

The door behind them burst open then to reveal Ron, laughing, pulling Lavender by the hand.

"Oh," Ron said, drawing up short at the sight of Harry and Hermione.

"Oops!" said Lavender, and she backed out of the room, giggling. The door swung shut behind her.

As Ron looked at Hermione, she saw once again, a sort of hatred in his eyes. But she simply stared back at him. Whatever his problem was with her, she refused to show him that she cared.

"You shouldn't leave Lavender waiting outside," she said quietly. "She'll wonder where you've gone."

Despite her external resoluteness, however, her enchanted birds seemed to sense the anger inside her. Anger over the cold and heartless ways he'd been treating her. After she'd tried her best to make him feel better. At a time when she felt so very low, herself.

It was worthless. Everything was worthless. The enchanted yellow birds attacking Ron and making him flee the room was worthless. The look of concern in Harry's eyes as he sat down next to her on the floor, placing her head on his shoulder as tears streamed down her face, was completely and utterly worthless.

Yet she continued to cry. She cried for a lot of things. She cried for Ron, she cried for the war, she cried for her parents, she cried for Dumbledore and the horcruxes and the prophecy, but most of all, she cried for Harry.

She cried for the way he made her feel. With her head on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around her and his scent filling her nostrils, making her heart beat quicken dangerously. How it felt like absolute heaven to be in his arms. To be comforted by him. To feel so incredibly safe and warm and relaxed. And happy.

She cried for the way he made her feel so happy.

As her sobs slowly subsided, and her shallow breaths turned into deep breathing, she finally looked up at him. She hadn't been this close to him for as long as she could remember. She could see every detail of his face so clearly. And as her eyes met his, her heart seemed to melt with the power of his green gaze.

How she adored the colour green...

Slowly, beyond her conscious control, her eyes travelled downwards towards his lips. She wondered madly whether they felt as soft as they looked. Because they looked so incredibly soft...

Butterflies continued to erupt inside her stomach, to the point where it was almost painful. To the point where she desperately _needed_ to satisfy them.

And she knew how. She knew exactly how to do just that.

She needed to taste him. Just once. _Just once._

She needed to run her fingers through his silky soft hair.

She needed to snog him in a dark broom closet.

She was feeling things she'd never felt before. Things that scared her and excited her at the same time. Things that she needed.

But as she looked back into his emerald green eyes one last time, she realized with heart breaking certainty that all of it, every single part of it, was completely and utterly worthless.

Because she saw no love reflecting back.

* * *

><p>AN: And by that I mean no romantic love...obviously since he does love her as a friend. But anyway...I'm so incrediby sorry that this took me forever and a day to post. But its extra long so I hope that makes up for it? Once again this is a pretty depressing chapter. But I can assure you that upcoming chapters won't all be as depressing as these last two have been. And overall, even though this story is a 'tragedy', there will always be light hearted comic relief moments because otherwise this would be suchhh a drag to read. Anyway, I really hope you like it! I know some of you may possibly hate parts of it...and I apologize for that, but...I have to do what I have to do. It hurts me just as much as you, trust me. I would love some feedback as always! Thank you so much for reading :)


	25. Chapter 25

_I think many people don't often realize the fine distinction between being brave and being fearless. Being fearless...that's quite easy, isn't it? If you're not afraid of the dark, you're perfectly content to sit in a dark room for as long as needed. It takes no effort. It takes no courage. But being brave...that's another matter entirely. _

_Being brave is having fear. Being brave is having doubts. Being brave is closing your eyes and hearing your pounding heart beat in your ears and feeling your palms grow damp. _

_But most importantly, being brave is taking action. Doing something even though you are afraid. Doing something_ in spite _of being afraid. _

_Do you know how many times I just wanted to give up? How many times I wanted to escape it all and go live in a faraway land where no one could find me? _

_And it could have been so easy. _

_Do I consider myself brave? I don't know. Certain times in my life, I'd say yes. Certain others, I'd say I was anything but. _

* * *

><p>"Hey, are you okay?"<p>

Hermione sighed, looking up from the long Transfiguration essay she and Harry were currently working on.

"Yes, Harry, I'm _fine_," she stated.

"Erm...good..." he replied, uncertainly. "You just seemed a bit...troubled."

She rolled her eyes as he looked away. He'd been doing this all week. Asking about her well being. And to be quite frank, it was getting annoying.

It's not that she didn't appreciate his concern. Because she did.

It was just..._frustrating. _

She wanted things to be normal. She wanted to forget about everything that happened after the Quidditch match and move on. But Harry insisted on treating her as if she were made of glass, like she could break any moment.

And to top it all off, Ginny was now thoroughly convinced that Hermione did, indeed, fancy Ron. And really, who could blame her?

Ron and Lavender kiss in the centre of the common room and suddenly she has an emotional breakdown.

It was almost comical.

And of course, Harry thought the same as Ginny. He never dared voice it aloud, but Hermione could tell. The way he would avoid bringing Ron up in conversation. Or how he would suddenly need her to accompany him to the library, or the Owlery, or the kitchens when Ron and Lavender were getting heated in the common room.

She'd tried at first to convince Harry that she couldn't care less who Ron did or did not snog, but it was to no avail. He would just give her that stupid sympathetic look that proved he didn't believe a word of what she was saying.

But no matter. She would just ignore it the way she'd been ignoring Ginny for the past several months.

Of course, to say she was completely apathetic toward Ron wouldn't be entirely true. She was, in fact, very much irritated by him. He still hadn't apologized for his behaviour towards her last Saturday, and if she was being completely honest with herself, it did hurt her a bit that he was ignoring her.

Then again...she still hadn't apologized for the wild birds she'd set loose on him in the classroom, either. But really, that was hardly significant in comparison.

"So, do you want to call it a night?" Hermione announced, after a rather long bout of silence.

Harry looked up. "Yeah, sure."

"Right..." Hermione said, picking up her things with a sigh.

They'd been spending a lot of time like this in the library lately. It was just like in third year when her and Ron had their huge fight over Crookshanks and Scabbers, and in fourth year when Ron had turned against Harry after his name had come out of the Goblet.

She wondered briefly if the only way her and Harry would ever spend so much alone time together, would be if one of them were in a fight with Ron.

_Stop that. You shouldn't be thinking that way, remember? You're just friends. That's all you'll ever be. _

"Goodnight, Harry," Hermione said once they entered the common room, not even waiting for a reply before immediately heading up the spiral staircase.

It was still quite early, but she knew Ron and Lavender would probably be in plain sight, and she was simply was not in the mood for Harry's pitying stares.

The thought made her snort aloud.

_Maybe I should just start fancying Ron. It'd probably make things much simpler, wouldn't it?_

She suddenly heard a light knock on the door, and looked up curiously. "Come in," she called.

Ginny's head popped in hesitantly, her hand placed over her eyes. "Are you decent?"

"Oh, shut up," Hermione replied.

Ginny smirked before entering the room and closing the door behind her. "Just making sure," she said, mock defensively.

"Can I help you with something?" Hermione asked, not looking up from the Arithmancy notes she'd just pulled out.

"How are you?"

Hermione groaned loudly. "Not you, too."

"What?" Ginny responded, surprised.

"Don't you dare start pestering me about my emotional state!"

"Why? Who else is doing such an abominable thing?" Ginny asked.

"Harry, that's who," Hermione replied. "And in answer to you _both_, I am perfectly fine. All right?"

"Yeah, all right," Ginny said in a tone that clearly stated otherwise.

Hermione simply rolled her eyes. "Is that all? I have studying to do."

"Nope," Ginny said, hopping up onto Hermione's bed and sitting cross-legged. "Who are you taking to Slughorn's party?"

Hermione buried her face further into her notes. "Dunno, hadn't thought about it yet."

Ginny scoffed loudly. "It's in two days!"

"Oh..."

"Well, no matter. I have a plan—"

"No."

"At least hear me out!"

"No."

"_Hermione."_

Exhaling loudly, Hermione finally looked up. "What?"

"Okay, so originally you were thinking of asking Ron, right?"

Hermione instantly regretted sharing this piece of information with the red-head. "As friends and nothing more," she stated.

"Yeah, yeah, of course," Ginny said, waving her off. "And he's being a complete arse to you at the moment, is he not?"

"Yes...your point?" Hermione replied, bored.

"Well, how about completely infuriating Ron by taking someone he hates to the party?"

Hermione raised one eyebrow. "Like who?"

"Well the way I see it, there are three possible candidates: Zacharias Smith, Cormac McLaggen, or Draco Malfoy—"

Hermione nearly choked on her own saliva. "Have you gone _completely _mad!?"

"You didn't let me finish!" Ginny said hurriedly. "I was _going_ to say that in reality you really only have two choices because, well, let's face it, Malfoy makes Kreacher look like a gentleman. "

"Umm, no...I have zero choices! Honestly Ginny, do you want me to spontaneously combust by the end of the party? Because I swear that's what'll happen if I'm forced to endure an entire evening in the company of Smith or McLaggen. There'll be messy little bits and pieces of Hermione Granger all over the room!"

"That's quite a ghastly image..."

"Good, keep it in mind," Hermione said brusquely.

"Look, it's just a suggestion, okay? But do try and remember, it'll make Ron furious. And I don't know about you, but I think that would make it all quite worth it. He deserves a little slap in the face after the way he's been acting, don't you agree?"

Hermione crossed her arms with a click of her tongue.

"Just sleep on it, yeah? Ginny asked.

"Mhm."

"Good, let me know what you decide!" she said, before closing the door behind her.

Hermione knew the answer quite well. It was no. Completely, irrevocably, no.

* * *

><p>The next morning at breakfast, Hermione tried her best to pretend she didn't notice Ginny's questioning looks from down the table. Instead she continued eating her toast in silence, waiting for Harry to come down to the Great Hall and rescue her from another conversation with Ginny.<p>

He entered through the doors not moments later, much to Hermione's relief.

"Morning," Harry said, taking a seat across from her and running a hand through his hair tiredly.

Hermione ignored the butterflies in her stomach and smiled in response.

If she had even an ounce of the so called courage that she possessed, she would ask Harry to the party instead. They were friends, weren't they? And they were both without dates...

_So why hasn't _he_ asked _me_ already? Surely he'd rather go with me than with one of his many stalker fan girls? Or maybe he wouldn't...maybe the idea of taking me is completely appalling to him..._

_Well you won't know unless you try. Just ask him if he's got a date!_

Hermione swallowed hard, her heart beating nervously in her chest. She looked carefully at Harry who had his head resting in his hand as he swirled his spoon in the porridge bowl.

But just as she was about to open her mouth to ask him, a loud screeching giggle erupted nearby.

Harry and Hermione both turned their heads simultaneously toward the source of the sound. It was Lavender. Apparently Ron had said something so utterly funny that Lavender had to go interrupt and dissolve any sort of nerve Hermione had built up just moments previously.

She wanted to groan in frustration or get up and walk right out of the Great Hall in a huff, but she knew that wouldn't help her case against Ron very much. So instead, she sat there, internally cursing the wretched couple.

Harry looked at her briefly, and she stared right back, trying her best to prove that absolutely nothing was wrong.

_Well, besides the fact that I'm a coward, Ron's an arse, and Lavender's an annoying tart. Yes, nothing at all. _

The rest of breakfast passed by rather uneventfully until out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Ginny head towards her.

"Hey, Harry, why don't we head down to Charms now, yeah?" she said, already half way out of her seat.

"Er, sure," said Harry, a bit taken aback by her abruptness.

As she picked up her bag, Hermione turned to look behind her. Ginny was staring at her with narrowed eyes, but Hermione merely smiled and waved before following Harry out of the Great Hall.

Then something strange happened.

As she and Harry were walking towards the door, she could have sworn she saw a number of people suddenly get out of their seats and walk towards the exit as well.

Namely, girls.

Hermione waited a moment, wondering if it could possibly be some bizarre coincidence. However, when she saw a large group of them rush ahead to position themselves clumsily underneath the mistletoe, her suspicions were confirmed.

"Harry," she said quietly into his ear, "I think we're being followed."

She shifted her eyes discreetly to the left and Harry followed her gaze. Judging by the sudden blush that appeared on his cheeks, he had understood.

And all of a sudden, Hermione found herself having to catch up to him as he increased his pace, looking anywhere but at the girls.

"Slow down, will you!" Hermione exclaimed once they turned into the next corridor.

"Sorry," Harry said, looking slightly embarrassed, and coming to an abrupt halt.

Hermione nearly ran into him, finding her balance just in time. She then broke out into a fit of laughter.

"What?" Harry demanded.

"You!"

"What about me?" he replied, as if daring her to answer.

"You can face the darkest wizard of all time, yet you get scared of a bunch of girls underneath the mistletoe," Hermione said, amusement still evident in her voice.

"I was not s_cared_," Harry stated, shouldering his bag more roughly as he continued his way down the corridor to Charms.

Hermione rolled her eyes and ran to catch up with him. "You could have fooled me," she said, smirking.

"Don't get snarky with me."

"I apologize."

Harry shook his head, smiling despite himself. "I just can't wait for this stupid party to be over."

_Here's your chance. Ask him!_

"Yeah, about that...um...who do you—?"

"Hi Harry, Hermione!"

Hermione internally groaned.

_Is this some sort of sick joke?_

"Hey, Neville," Harry replied smiling.

"Hi," Hermione said somewhat forcefully, before turning on her heel and entering the classroom without a second glance behind her.

She took a seat at her usual table, taking out her book, parchment, quill and ink, and waited, tapping her fingers impatiently.

_Maybe I'll ask Neville to the party...I helped him enough in Potions for the past five years. He owes me a favour..._

_Or maybe I'll just go alone. Who says I need a ruddy date, anyway? Society? _

After class was over, Hermione bid Harry goodbye as she headed down to Arithmancy, completely ignoring Ron as usual. Not that he seemed to mind, what with Lavender hanging on his arm like a lost child.

Hermione refrained from rolling her eyes yet again, and quickly rushed off, needing to use the loo before class.

She instantly sensed something peculiar as she pushed open the door to the girl's lavatory, however. She could hear a lot of voices, and looking into the reflection of the mirror, she saw a group of about a dozen girls congregated in front of the stalls.

Hermione was just about to walk out to find a different loo when something made her stop.

"And you're _sure_ it'll work?"

"Well it's worth a try, isn't it?"

Hermione heard a couple of girls giggle.

"Of course it is," someone said, suggestively. Then she sighed. "A date with _Harry Potter_..."

Hermione eyes widened.

_No...it couldn't be..._

She leaned in closer to the wall that separated her from view.

"Well don't go getting your hopes up. Because he's obviously going to choose me."

"Oh? What makes you say that?" one girl asked sharply. "Are you giving us all the crappy potions and hiding the real stuff for yourself?"

Hermione's heart skipped a beat.

_Yes...it could be. They're going to slip him a love potion! _

"Oh _Anna_, what do you take me for?" said the girl in such a sugary sweet voice that it made Hermione want to vomit. "It's just going to come down to whoever Harry finds the most appealing. And well...I hate to break it to you, but...I hear he doesn't really fancy blondes."

Several girls gasped.

"Just you wait, by the end of the night," the girl continued, "I'll finally get to run my hands through that black messy hair of his while we're snogging in a broom cupboard. And with any luck...maybe we'll do even more than snog..."

Hermione could just _hear_ the devious smile in the girl's voice. She couldn't believe it. She simply could not believe it. How could anyone stoop so low?

"How do you plan on slipping him some, then?" the girl named Anna asked, with obvious envy in her voice.

"I'll figure out a way..."

"Well, I don't care what you say; we're still going to try."

A number of girls gave their assent to this statement, and Hermione finally had enough.

Revealing herself from behind the wall, she walked straight towards the group of girls with a determined look on her face.

Upon seeing her, everyone in the lavatory instantly quieted down. If Hermione hadn't known any better, she would have suspected someone had cast a Silencing Charm.

All the girls were staring at her, some with fear, others with what looked like guilt. Romilda Vane simply looked bored.

"Hello," she stated tightly to the group at large.

"What did you hear?" Romilda asked straight away.

"Just enough," Hermione replied evenly. "Now, if you hand in all the potions to me, I won't turn any of you in."

"Don't have them on us," Romilda replied. "Therefore you have no proof, and therefore you can't turn us in."

Hermione clenched her teeth. "Don't think that I'm not going to warn him," she stated. "And if I even _imagine_ that he's acting just the slightest big out of the ordinary, I'll tell him to go straight to Madam Pomfrey to get checked. Then you'll all be in serious trouble."

There was silence once more.

"You should all be ashamed of yourselves," Hermione said with disgust before turning swiftly on her heel and walking out.

She could feel the heat rising to her face in anger as she walked down the corridor in heavy strides. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, Hermione felt what could have been a boulder slam into her side.

"OW!" she exclaimed, almost losing her balance as all her books toppled to the ground. She looked around angrily at the source of the blow.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" said Cormac McLaggen, looking genuinely apologetic. Which was strange, since he rarely ever looked genuine about anything.

"I wasn't looking where I was going!" he continued.

"Clearly," Hermione stated, but with less edge in her voice. "What were you doing running down the corridors, anyway?"

"Er...well I...sort of made some people angry and... let's just say they were a bit larger than I was."

Hermione looked at him strangely. "Right..." she said, slowly. "Well, it looks like you've lost them. I have to go to class, so goodbye."

"Wait, Granger!" he called, just as she was about to walk away.

"I'm really going to be late for class, _goodbye_," she said, turning to leave once more.

But he grabbed her arm for her to stop.

"Wait!" he exclaimed again. "Would you...like to go to Slughorn's party with me tomorrow night?"

Hermione stared at him for a moment, then burst out into laughter.

However she instantly sobered up when she saw the serious look on his face. "Oh!" she said, suddenly feeling guilty. "You were serious...?"

"Erm...yeah," McLaggen said, looking around somewhat awkwardly.

"Oh..." Hermione said again. "Well I...er...the thing is...can I actually get back to you on that? I'm going to be late for Arithmancy, you see."

"It's a simple yes or no question, Granger," he said, with a little edge to his voice. "But no matter, I'll be awaiting your reply."

"Excellent! I'll see you later," Hermione said, practically running down the corridor.

She couldn't quite comprehend what had just happened, and tried not to think about it as she sat through class. She cringed at the thought of Ginny somehow finding out about this...

_Note to self: Don't let Ginny find out about this._

After a quite complex lesson of Arithmancy that added to the already jumbled mess of her mind, Hermione quickly made her way back to the common room to find Harry, hoping that she'd reach him before any girls with love potions did.

And sure enough, when she entered the common room, she found him sitting in one of the chairs by the fire, lazily flipping through a Quidditch magazine.

"Where's Ron?" Hermione asked, as she sat down next to Harry.

He gave her a 'do-you-really-have-to-ask' look before motioning his head to a dark corner in the back.

Hermione felt a fresh wave of annoyance towards Ron. It seemed like he was spending every second of every day with Lavender. And while she didn't really mind, she knew it was affecting Harry. They were best mates, after all.

He just always looked so bored these days, and he barely even talked.

"Hey, you want to do something?" she asked, pulling his magazine down so she could see his face.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"I don't know...talk about Quidditch?" she suggested with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. Which, if she was being honest, turned out to be quite a dismal effort.

Harry seemed to realize this as well because he chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I appreciate the gesture, Hermione, but...I don't think either of us would enjoy that conversation very much. I'm not good at explaining things seven times."

"Oh ha ha, very funny," she replied, not amused. "And yet, somehow I manage to explain Transfiguration to you seven times."

"Touché."

Hermione smiled with satisfaction.

"Speaking of Transfiguration..." Harry started, hesitantly.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me."

"It was so hard, Hermione. And I was unbelievably tired...we had a tough Quidditch practice last night..."

"You're the captain!"

"Exactly, which means I have to put forth twice the effort."

Hermione sighed. "How much did you get done?"

Harry opened up his bag, digging around through various scrolls of parchment, until: "Aha, thought I lost it!"

He handed the paper to Hermione, and she carefully unfurled it.

"It's blank..." she said, looking up at him.

"Exactly," he replied, smiling.

Hermione stared at him for a moment, then scoffed loudly, throwing the parchment at him, before getting up with her books in hand. "Come on, let's get this over with."

"You're a saint, Hermione, you truly are," Harry said, grabbing his bag and following her out of the portrait hole.

"Don't push it."

But as they were nearing the library, Hermione suddenly stopped.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked when he realized she was no longer walking beside him.

"You knew I was going to help you all along!" she exclaimed.

"Er..."

"Why else would you be reading a blasted Quidditch magazine when we have Transfiguration tomorrow _morning_?" she continued fervently. "God, am I really that predictable?"

"Trust me, Hermione, you're anything but predictable. Most of the time I have absolutely no idea what's going on inside that head of yours," Harry said laughing.

_Well, isn't that convenient..._

"Whatever, I'm only letting this slide because Christmas is coming up and I'm in a giving mood."

"Well, isn't that convenient," he said, smirking.

Hermione looked at him strangely for a moment, before shaking her head and making her way to a table.

After a brutal hour and half, Harry's paper was completed. And true to her principles, Hermione had only given him mere guidance throughout (much to Harry's dismay).

"It's the only way you'll learn," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Right," Harry replied, his hair a complete mess from the amount of times he had run his hand through it.

"Oh, by the way, you need to be careful," Hermione said, suddenly remembering why she was so anxious to see him in the first place. And she told him all about the encounter she had in the girl's lavatory earlier. "They all seem to have bought Fred and George's love potions, which I'm afraid to say probably work—"

"Why didn't you confiscate them, then?" demanded Harry.

"They didn't have the potions with them," said Hermione scornfully. "They were just discussing tactics. As I doubt whether the _Half-Blood Prince_ could dream up an antidote for a dozen different love potions at once, I'd just invite someone to go with you, that'll stop all the others thinking they've still got a chance. It's tomorrow night, they're getting desperate."

_Moment of truth. Moment of truth. Moment of truth. _

"There isn't anyone I want to invite," said Harry.

Hermione felt her heart sink.

She didn't see why she was so surprised...she knew he wouldn't want to go with her.

And yet...

It still made her feel a bit empty inside.

"Well, just be careful what you drink, because Romilda Vane looked like she meant business," Hermione said, slightly disheartened.

Harry grimaced, oblivious to Hermione's sudden change in demeanour.

"Hang on a moment," he said slowly. "I thought Filch had banned anything bought at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?"

"And when has anyone ever paid attention to what Filch has banned?" asked Hermione.

"But I thought the owls were being searched. So how come these girls are able to bring love potions into school?" Harry said.

He then brought up his suspicions about Malfoy and the cursed necklace. But as Hermione explained, love potions could be concealed with mislabelled bottles, while Dark Magic and Dark objects would be detected within seconds.

"—so it would be down to Filch to realize it wasn't a cough potion, and he's not a very good wizard, I doubt he can tell one potion from—"

"_What have you been doing to that book, you depraved boy?"_

Harry and Hermione both stopped dead as they looked up at the vulturelike countenance of Madam Pince.

"It isn't the library's, it's mine!" said Harry hastily, snatching his copy of _Advance Potion-Making_ off the table as she lunged at it with a clawlike hand.

Hermione grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him away, Madam Pince's shouts of 'despoiled', 'desecrated', and 'befouled' following them out of the library as they quickly made their way into the corridor.

"She'll ban you from the library if you're not careful. Why did you have to bring that stupid book?" Hermione said.

"It's not my fault she's barking mad, Hermione. Or d'you think she overheard you being rude about Filch? I've always thought there might be something going on between them..."

"Oh, ha ha..."

"I'm serious!" Harry insisted. "You don't agree?"

Hermione stared at him as if he were insane. "What on earth led you to that conclusion?"

"I dunno...I've seen Filch lingering around the library a couple of times."

"Filch lingers around everywhere," Hermione said, laughing despite herself. "Any other evidence?"

"Well they seem a perfect fit, don't they?" Harry replied. "Both got really long noses and bony cheeks."

"So, you're saying that if two people look similar...they're bound to fall in love?"

"It worked for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley," Harry pointed out.

Hermione's laughter once again erupted, filling the empty corridor around them.

Harry looked over at her and grinned, mirth dancing behind his green eyes. "What, you disagree?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, smiling. "Of course not," she said. "I just think your reasoning is a little flawed."

"Is that so?"

"It is so."

"What's _your_ reasoning then?" Harry asked.

"Well, to be honest...I don't have one," she said, slowly.

Harry raised his eyebrows as if in question. "Oh?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know...I don't think there's really a specific reason that people fall in love with each other. I think sometimes...it just happens," she said, swallowing hard as she looked straight into his eyes.

* * *

><p>Hermione awoke the last morning before the holidays feeling happier than she had in a very long time. Sure, she still had no idea who she was going with to Slughorn's party. And sure, she and Ron were still not speaking to each other. But somehow, these two factors failed to dampen her mood. In fact, she even thought she might reconcile with him before the holidays.<p>

Unfortunately, things did not go exactly as planned. And unfortunately, Ron had to be a prat and make fun of her in front of the entire Transfiguration class.

All because she laughed at his stupid moustache.

Which, by the way, looked completely ridiculous.

"Hermione, is that you?" said a dreamy voice behind her.

Hermione turned around quickly to see Luna standing by the door of the girl's lavatory. "Oh, hi Luna," she answered quietly.

"You have tears in your eyes," Luna stated, curiously, walking up to her.

Hermione wiped them away furiously, angry at herself for reacting so ridiculously to Ron's derisive behaviour.

It's not as if it were the first time he'd ever made fun of her.

_It's just the first time he's ever done it in front of a class full of people. _

_But still...why should that bother me so much? Malfoy and the Slytherins do it all the time! You don't see me crying because of them..._

_Well...that's because it's Malfoy and the Slytherins. Not your best friend..._

_My best friend..._

Hermione suddenly felt heat rush to her face in anger. What was his problem anyway? He'd been acting nasty towards her since the week of the last Quidditch match, and she'd done absolutely nothing wrong!

Quite frankly, she was sick and tired of it. It was time for a little payback. Yes, payback.

And she had just the plan.

"Hermione, is something the matter?"

She looked up at Luna who was still standing next to her gazing at her curiously.

Hermione took in a dignified breath and smiled. "Ronald Weasley. That's what the matter is."

And with that, she turned on her heel and left, making her way to the entrance hall for lunch in a very purposeful manner.

When she arrived, she stood there waiting by the doors to the Great Hall. He couldn't be inside yet; she had gotten here fairly early.

Her eyes scanned the incoming crowd coming down the spiral staircase.

_Where is he? _Hermione thought, impatiently.

And not seconds later she spotted him.

"McLaggen!"

He looked around curiously at the sound of his name.

Hermione walked up to him discreetly, glancing around for any onlookers. Which was quite idiotic, she reasoned. Considering what she was about to do.

"Oh...Hi, Granger," McLaggen said when she reached him. "What do you want?"

"Yes."

"Pardon?" he asked.

"I said, _yes_."

McLaggen looked at her strangely for a moment before realization suddenly seemed to dawn on him. "Oh...Oh! Er...excellent! Fantastic! I'll...I'll pick you up at eight, then?"

Hermione smiled politely. "I look forward to it."

"Great. You've just made me a really happy bloke, Granger," McLaggen said, giving her what looked like a true smile.

Hermione was a bit surprised by his reaction. She gave a small laugh for lack of anything better to say, then turned around to head into the Great Hall with a bewildered expression on her face.

In the end, it was difficult to tell whether her 'payback' was really worth it all. Sure, she felt extremely gratified with Ron's outraged reaction. And yes, she got some pleasure out of making Ginny spit out her pumpkin juice at the dinner table.

All in all, though, McLaggen was a right pain in the arse. To put it lightly.

"Hello, Hermione, are you escaping again?" Luna asked, appearing out of nowhere and making Hermione jump.

She had to admit, she was quite surprised when Harry told her he was going to bring Luna to the party. Surprised, and somewhat relieved. Because at least she knew they were friends and nothing more.

Not that it mattered if they were more than friends, of course...

"Yes, do you see him anywhere?" Hermione whispered, scanning the room for McLaggen.

"I believe he's talking to the vampire we met earlier," Luna answered, taking a sip from her glass.

Hermione looked at the girl strangely. She didn't recall meeting any vampires...

"Ah! Miss Granger, there you are."

Hermione turned around to see Slughorn standing next to a very tall, dark man with sharp features.

"Miss Granger, I'd like you to meet Mr. Anthony Calloway. Anthony, this is Hermione Granger. One of my very best students!" Slughorn said, giving Hermione a wink.

Hermione smiled politely, shaking the man's hand. This was not the first person Slughorn had introduced her to, and probably would not be the last.

"...It's such a shame that Warren couldn't be here today. You know I always had a soft spot for him," Slughorn said, looking as if he were remembering a fond memory.

"Warren Thanter, you mean?" Calloway asked in his deep voice.

"Oh, but of course," Slughorn replied.

Hermione was unable to stay and listen to the rest of the conversation, however, as she saw McLaggen rapidly approaching.

And this was the manner in which she spent the rest of her night.

* * *

><p><em>It's times like these when I can just forget about everything. I can almost pretend like my life is normal. Is it terrible that there are moments when I sit in my room or the kitchen or by the fire and just wish that I could stay right there forever? That I can just hide away from the world and everyone in it...But I could never do that. Because first, the guilt would chew me up and spit me out into little pieces. And second...because I could never do that to Harry. As long as he needs me, I'll never leave his side. But maybe someday...if he doesn't need me...<em>

_Maybe that's when he'll __want__ me by his side. _

_I guess only time will tell. _

Hermione closed the book softly and tucked it away between the clothes in her wardrobe. Her mother had actually gotten her a 'diary' for Christmas. Except, Hermione refused to call it such. Even 'journal' felt a bit weird. Instead, she stuck to the term 'memoir'. It sounded much more sophisticated, albeit a tad presumptuous. But no matter.

She liked to imagine that, maybe someday, she could in fact write a book of her own. Merlin knew she'd have enough to write about by the end of the war.

Assuming she made it out alive, that is...

"How cheerful," Hermione muttered to herself, getting up from her place at the desk and opening the curtains to let some light into her room.

She heard a knock on her door and turned to see her father pop his head into the room.

"Breakfast is ready. What are you up to?" he asked.

"Nothing, just contemplating the many facets of life. I'll be right there," Hermione answered.

"Sounds exciting. But shouldn't you be watching television or making snow angels or something?"

"No, and...I'm not seven," she replied.

"Fair enough," her dad stated. "Oh, by the way, I made chocolate chip pancakes."

Hermione instantly squealed and jumped up from the bed, pushing her father out of the way to hurry downstairs.

"I suppose ten more years don't make much of a difference, then?" Hermione could hear her dad say behind her, a smile clearly evident in his voice.

The rest of the holidays were spent in very much the same relaxed manner. The very last day before the start of term, she found herself secretly wishing again that she could just stay at home forever.

With aching sadness, Hermione realized that she wasn't sure if she would be coming back in the summer. Who knew what was going to happen with the war and Voldemort. And this could very well be the last time in a long time she would see her room.

"You all packed?"

Hermione turned around and saw her mother enter the room.

"Yeah," Hermione replied quietly, trying her best to fight the quiver in her voice.

"What's wrong, dear?" her mum asked, concern instantly flooding her features.

"Nothing! I'm just going to miss home that's all."

Her mother didn't seem completely satisfied with this answer, and continued staring at her curiously.

She then sighed deeply, taking a seat on her daughter's bed. "There's so much I don't know about you, Hermione, isn't there? I know you haven't always told us everything. Maybe you just didn't want to frighten us or have us worry. Whatever the reason may be...But, I never said anything before. I never brought it up. Do you know why?"

"Why?" Hermione whispered in response.

"Because I trust you."

Hermione could no longer fight back the tears that had been threatening to escape from her eyes.

"I trust you, sweetheart. But the one thing I regret the most in life, is that I can't _be there_ for you. I wish I could understand. I wish I could be a part of your world. I wish I could help you. I feel so...useless and _powerless_ to you." Her mother looked down for a moment, taking in a deep breath. "No mother should ever feel like that, Hermione. No mother should ever feel like that..."

With tears now blurring her vision, Hermione wrapped her arms around her mother with all the strength she could muster. "You're wrong, Mum. You know and understand me better than anyone. And when I'm with you I feel _safe_. And I...I just love you so much!" she said, her voice going an octave higher.

They both sat like that for some time, crying into each other's arms, not quite sure what exactly they were crying about, but just knowing that they needed to.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked her mother when she stood up abruptly.

"Just looking for something," she replied, scanning Hermione's many shelves filled with books, awards, stuffed animals, and the like. "Aha!"

Hermione face instantly broke out into a smile when she saw what her mother was holding. It was the _Wizard of Oz _musical snow globe that she had cherished so much when she was a child. It had a small Dorothy inside standing among a beautiful meadow. And on the outer base was a picture of the yellow brick road leading up to the Emerald City.

But Hermione's absolute favourite part was that when wound, it would play the song "Somewhere Over the Rainbow".

"I remember when you were little, you'd be upset and crying over something and you'd run into my arms with this old thing and keep playing it over and over and over—"

"Yes, Mum, I remember," Hermione said laughing, taking the snow globe into her hands and holding it fondly.

"So, what do you say? Once more for old time's sake?"

Hermione nodded, smiling. And just like she used to, wound the little snow globe as far as it would go.

Her mother sat down next to her on the bed, scooping her up into her arms and holding her close as she smoothed down her hair.

Just like any music box, the tune held a certain eeriness to its timbre. Almost as if it were taking you back to a different time, a different place, a different life. It was comforting, yes. But only in the nostalgic sort of way.

As the music slowly came to an end, Hermione looked up at her mother with a smile.

"Do you want to take it with you?" her mum asked.

Hermione stared at the snow globe in her hands for a moment. "No, I want to leave it here," she said quietly. "I want to know that it will always be here waiting for me. That it'll always be home."

* * *

><p>AN: Hey guys! I'm so incredibly sorry for the long wait! With finals and the holidays and all that mess, I just simply could not find the time. But hey, at least it's extra long, yeah? I'll have much more time to update now that I'm off of school for a couple of weeks so yay! Thank you so much to those of you who have reviewed and read this story and just stuck with it. I'm telling you now, and I'll probably continue to repeat this: This story will require your patience. Period. Feel free to ask me questions and I will try my best to answer them. I still haven't responded to some of you, but I promise I'll get to that! But once again, thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter!


	26. Chapter 26

_That image stuck with me for a long time after. Almost every night in my dreams I would seem him dead, or dying. I would see him covered in blood, lying lifeless on the ground. I used to have nightmares occasionally. But once you see something first hand, nightmares become so much more terrifying. _

_In that moment, the realization of all that could happen crashed into me like a boulder. _

_Our childhood was drawing to an end. _

* * *

><p>"So, how long do you suppose you two'll keep this up?" asked Harry as Ron deliberately changed direction upon seeing Hermione by the fire.<p>

Hermione sighed. "I don't know," she said truthfully. It had been almost three months since the beginning of her and Ron's fight.

"You could try talking to him," Harry said hesitantly.

It was a mark of just how much she missed her other best friend that she didn't immediately glare at Harry for this suggestion.

"He should be the one to talk to me first," Hermione responded, but with less fervour than usual.

Harry seemed to pick up on this change and continued eagerly. "You know how stubborn he is, Hermione. I'm willing to bet he'll come grovelling at your feet if you just give him the chance."

Hermione snorted. "That'd be a sight."

"His birthday's coming up...why not talk to him then?" Harry suggested, once again in that hesitant tone.

Hermione exhaled. "We'll see, okay," she said. "Are you done pestering me, now?"

"Almost..."

Hermione looked up from her homework with one eyebrow raised. "What?" she asked bluntly.

"What did you get for number four?"

"_Harry._"

* * *

><p>In hindsight, she supposed it was a bit ironic. It had been only a mere suggestion from Harry to reconcile with Ron on his birthday. But she never dreamed it would have happened like this.<p>

Nevertheless, here she sat exactly one week later with guilt making her insides squirm uncomfortably as she looked upon Ron's sleeping form.

_He could have died._

These were the words that kept replaying in her head over and over again like some sort of mantra.

The moment Harry had rushed into the common room to tell her what happened, she felt as if several bricks had dropped in her stomach. In the blink of an eye, the past three months were forgotten. Even now as she sat there, she could barely remember what they'd been fighting about to begin with. It was all a haze in comparison.

All she could see, all she could think about, all she could do was wait for the moment when he'd open his eyes. She would tell him she was sorry. That she'd missed him terribly. She'd hug him like her life depended on it.

Because he was her best friend. And nothing in the world could ever change that.

Hermione quickly wiped away a tear that had escaped her eye, but Harry, who was sitting on Ron's other side, pretended not to notice.

"Where's Ginny?" Hermione asked.

"She went to go owl Fred and George. They're in Hogsmeade," Harry replied quietly.

After another moment of tense silence, Harry spoke up again. "He'll be okay, Hermione."

She let out a somewhat shaky sigh. "I know. It's just...I keep wondering...what if—"

"What if nothing," Harry said seriously. "What's done is done. This is what happened and there's no point contemplating otherwise."

"That's easier said than done," she whispered.

"I know that. But you shouldn't be torturing yourself over this."

"The same way you shouldn't be torturing yourself over Sirius?" she asked suddenly, looking up at him.

Harry was taken aback for a moment, but quickly recovered. "This is completely different. You did nothing wrong."

"Neither did you," she retorted.

"Look, can we not talk about this right now?" Harry said, clearly getting irritated.

"Fine, sorry."

She knew the pain of Sirius's death was still quite fresh for him, so she dropped the subject for now.

Suddenly the doors to the hospital wing burst open as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley rushed in followed by Ginny.

"Oh, Ronnie!" Mrs. Weasley cried as she took in the sight of her youngest son in the hospital bed.

Mr. Weasley looked as if he had gone into somewhat of a shock as he followed his wife to Ron's bedside.

"Who would want to hurt my little boy?" Mrs. Weasley sniffed as she gently stroked Ron's hair.

"Harry, what's happened? Dumbledore owled us saying Ron had been in accident. He said something about him being poisoned," Mr. Weasley said, the shock on his face being transferred into his words.

Harry was just about to open his mouth to respond when Dumbledore, himself, walked in through the hospital doors.

"Arthur, Molly, why don't you join me in my office so we can discuss the matter in more detail. You no doubt have many questions," the Headmaster said solemnly.

Mrs. Weasley looked appalled at the idea of leaving her son's side.

"Come on, Molly. Ron's in good hands," Mr. Weasley said, sensing his wife's ambivalence.

With much trepidation, Mrs. Weasley finally followed her husband out of the room, leaving Harry, Hermione, and Ginny to stare at Ron's sleeping form.

"Puts things into perspective, doesn't it?" Ginny stated to no one in particular, her voice sounding scratchy as a result of what Hermione presumed were tears.

"He's going to be fine," Harry said again, as if to reassure himself more than anyone else.

"Merlin, I hope so..." Ginny said. "You know, I didn't even buy the oaf a birthday present this year. And now he's gone and gotten himself poisoned...Makes me feel all the more guilty."

Hermione gave Ginny a weak smile. She and Ron hadn't been on the best of terms these past couple of months either, so she could empathize with what the girl was feeling.

As the shock slowly began to wear off throughout the day, Hermione was better able to compose herself. Though she still felt guilty, this feeling was greatly downplayed by the happiness and relief she felt over Ron's improving condition.

He would wake up every now and then, but quickly doze off thereafter. But it was enough to settle everyone's restlessness.

At one point in the day, during their umpteenth discussion of the identity of the poisoner, Ron awoke once more. This time, however, it appeared as if he were attempting to speak.

"What is it, Ron?" Fred urged him.

They all fell silent, watching him anxiously.

"Er-my-knee," croaked Ron. He then muttered incomprehensively for a moment before he merely starting snoring again.

Hermione could feel four pairs of eyes on her, but she refused to look into any of them. Most _especially_, Ginny's, whom even from a side glance appeared to be dancing with amusement.

Why had Ron uttered her name? Why _hers _out of everyone here? Maybe because she was sitting nearest to him. Yes, that was probably it.

But as she quickly looked over at Ginny once more, she knew the girl thought otherwise.

* * *

><p>Ron remained in the hospital wing for the rest of the week. But much to everyone's delight, he was now nearly fully functioning and back to normal. In fact, if it weren't for Madam Pomfrey's stranglehold on him, he would have surely snuck out of the hospital wing to watch the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff.<p>

"You should probably go see him before the match," Hermione suggested to Harry at breakfast. "You know, so he doesn't melt into a pool of self-pity."

"You know he will anyway," Harry replied, taking in a forkful of eggs. "You should come too."

"Why?" Hermione asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

Harry gulped down his eggs before answering. "Cause I'm sure he'd much rather see you than me," he said, smirking.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Harry said, much too innocently for her taste.

Hermione continued to stare at him for a moment before sighing irritably. "Well, that's too bad because I'm supposed to meet up with Ginny beforehand." she said, getting up from her seat abruptly. "I'll see you at the game. Try and catch the Snitch."

She could hear Harry chuckling behind her as she walked away, but refused to acknowledge how adorable it sounded.

"What's got you all miffed?" Ginny asked as Hermione walked up to her in the entrance hall.

"More like a 'who'," Hermione stated.

"Who's got you all miffed?" Ginny amended.

"Your brother's stupid friend, that's who."

"Hmm...well, you can't be angry at yourself, so that leaves..." Ginny said in mock thought. "What's Potter done this time?"

Hermione sighed. "It's nothing. You'll probably just agree with him, anyway," she said rolling her eyes.

"Ooh, now I'm interested. Do share," Ginny said as they began walking toward the Quidditch pitch.

Hermione grumbled loudly before continuing. "It's this whole Ron thing. Ever since that first day in the hospital wing, everyone seems to be under the impression that he's... I don't know, in love with me or something. And now none of you will let it go!"

Realization seemed to dawn on Ginny's face. "I didn't realize Harry was taking the mickey out of you for it, too," she laughed.

"It's not funny," Hermione said, turning to look at the girl with a frown.

Ginny groaned. "Come on, Hermione, we're only joking!"

"No you're not, that's the problem!" she retorted. "I think you lot are seriously under the impression that Ron fancies me. And...well...he doesn't."

"But how can you be sure?"

"Because...because I just a_m_," Hermione said, throwing her hands up into the air.

"Hermione, look," Ginny said, stopping along the path to grab the girl's shoulders. "I've come to the conclusion that I'm no longer going to make anymore claims about you fancying Ron. Whether or not you harbour some deep secret feelings for him, I can see that it annoys the hell out of you. So I'm going to stop. However, I _really_ do believe that he feels something for you, Hermione. And well...if he does...you shouldn't be embarrassed about that. It's not like it's your fault, after all."

"Well, fine, but how come nobody's bothering _him_ about it?"

Ginny looked at Hermione as if she had grown another head. "Have you met Fred and George?"

Hermione let out a snort of amusement. "Unfortunately. But, yes, I see your point," she added reluctantly.

"As you should," Ginny said, as they entered the locker rooms. "So what did Harry say to get you so riled up, anyway?"

"Oh, it's not that big of a deal. I suggested that he go visit Ron before the match since we all know how depressed he is about missing it. And then Harry suggested I come too since Ron would much rather see me than him," Hermione said. "It wouldn't have been so bad if he didn't give me that stupid smirk of his."

Ginny let out a loud laugh. "I'm sorry, Hermione, but...how could anyone possibly get angry at that adorable smirk?"

Hermione's cheeks instantly heated up, and she thanked the heavens above that they were already red from the cold wind.

"Come on, you _have_ to admit it, though. I don't care if you fancy him or not, all you need is eyes to see it," Ginny said, her voice still laced with amusement.

Hermione was saved the trouble of responding as Demelza entered through the locker room doors.

Hanging her cloak up, she turned to face the two girls with a smile. "Hey, Ginny, Hermione."

"Oh perfect, a second opinion!" Ginny said eagerly.

Demelza raised an eyebrow at the redhead, while Hermione internally groaned, hoping for someone else to come bursting through the doors so she could make a sneaky escape.

"Do you, or do you not think Harry has an adorable smirk?" Ginny asked the girl.

"My God, Ginny, can you let the girl breathe first?" Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

Demelza gave a sly grin in response. "I don't think we should be conversing about our Captain in such a manner, now, should we?"

"I'll take that as a yes," Ginny said confidently, throwing an 'I-told-you-so' look to Hermione.

"Well, to be fair, I don't know if I can distinctly remember what his smirks look like, but I think we can all safely agree that he's got a pretty amazing smile," Demelza added.

"If only he used it more often on the Quidditch pitch," Ginny snorted to which Demelza nodded thoughtfully in agreement.

Just then the door to the locker rooms opened again as three more of their teammates entered. Hermione saw Demelza cover her mouth to hide her laughter as Harry walked in behind them all.

"Good luck, you two," Hermione said to the girls, shaking her head and smiling slightly despite herself.

"Come on, you have to admit it's amazing, Hermione!" Ginny called across the room loudly as Harry greeted Hermione, smiling.

Hermione turned around to throw them an exasperated look. Both of the girls were in silent fits of laughter that only intensified as Harry walked passed them with a very confused look on his face.

* * *

><p>Hermione never loved Quidditch. In fact, more often than not, she found the sport quite exhausting to watch. She could barely ever keep up with who had the Quaffle at any given time. And she wouldn't be able to spot the Snitch if her life depended on it. Usually the only thing her eyes could follow were the Bludgers. Which was unfortunate considering how much she hated them.<p>

Couldn't they have picked a softer ball to unhinge players off their brooms? Oh no, never. That would just take the fun and excitement out of everything, wouldn't it?

"What's the score, Neville?" Hermione asked, having zoned out for a good ten minutes.

"Seventy-forty to Hufflepuff," he replied resignedly. "McLaggen's really stirring up a riot, isn't he? It looks like Harry's getting pretty angry..."

Hermione looked up to spot Harry animatedly shouting at McLaggen near the goal posts. "Well, I can't really blame him. Just looking at McLaggen irks me," she said, with Neville nodding in wholehearted agreement.

"What in the world's he doing now?" Parvati exclaimed from the row behind them.

They all watched as McLaggen took hold of one of the Beater's bats and appeared to be demonstrating to Peakes how to hit a Bludger toward an oncoming chaser.

"Oh, Harry's goin' to have a fit," Seamus said, a slight chuckle in his voice.

Sure enough, Harry pelted toward McLaggen with a frightening speed that left Hermione at the edge of her seat. And just as Harry reached him, McLaggen took a ferocious swipe at the oncoming Bludger.

Hermione's eyes followed the ball as if in slow motion as it met Harry's skull with a resounding _crack_ that seemed to echo throughout the entire stadium.

Her breath caught instantly in her throat. Desperately trying to block out the screams from the crowd around her, she frantically searched for her wand as she watched Harry's falling body speed much too quickly to the ground below him.

_I need to slow him down! I need to save him! I _have_ to save him! _

Throwing her cloak off in maddened frustration, she finally grasped her wand, aiming it directly at Harry's body.

But to her immense relief, the two Gryffindor beaters had caught Harry just as he was about to hit the ground.

Her heart was now pounding uncomfortably fast in her chest as she tore through the stands to get to the Quidditch pitch. A crowd was already forming around Harry when she reached, and she fought desperately to make her way to him.

"Please!" she shouted, her voice filling with emotion. "Please, I need to get through!"

But nobody could possibly hear her over all the noise. There were too many people surrounding her, stubbornly blocking her path. All she wanted to do was see him. To catch a glimpse of him. To know that he was okay.

Frustrated tears were now threatening to spill from her eyes as she continued to fight through the crowd. But at last, she reached him.

She felt her entire body go limp as she took in Harry's appearance.

He lay sprawled across the ground with his head lolling to the side, almost completely covered in blood.

Her legs seemed to give in underneath her as she fell to her knees beside him. He looked completely and utterly lifeless. And it terrified her.

"I need everyone to step away from the boy!" a voice commanded urgently.

Hermione looked up to see Madam Pomfrey conjure a stretcher out of thin air. She then pointed her wand at Harry and levitated him onto it.

There was a large pool of blood left on the ground where Harry had been moments before and it caused Hermione's stomach to clench in discomfort.

"Will he be okay?" said a shaky voice beside her.

Hermione turned to see Ginny looking almost as bad as she felt.

"It looks like a simple concussion. Nothing I haven't seen before. I'll just have to run some tests to see if there will be any lasting damage."

"What?" Hermione said, breathlessly.

"Lasting damage?" Ginny replied with slight fury. "What sort of lasting damage?"

"There is a very small chance of that, but one can never be sure. Now if you'll all please excuse me. I have to get Potter to the hospital wing immediately before he loses any more blood," Madam Pomfrey stated, sternly.

"Oh God..." Hermione whispered to herself as she watched Madam Pomfrey rush away.

Before following after her, Hermione went back to retrieve Harry's broom and robes which had been removed when he was placed on the stretcher.

"_McLaggen!_" Ginny said fiercely from behind her. Hermione turned to see a feral look in the girl's eyes.

The crowd had somehow made a direct clearing to reveal McLaggen who had been lingering toward the back the whole time. The entire Gryffindor Quidditch team now stood behind Ginny as they made their way toward the guilty looking boy, wands raised at the ready.

But Hermione didn't wait to see what fate he would receive. All she cared about right now was Harry. So, she quickly turned on her heel and ran toward the castle, his belongings safely tucked away beneath her arms.

Running down the corridors in full speed, she finally reached the hospital wing struggling to catch her breath.

She opened the doors and rushed inside, searching the room for Harry and spotting him on a bed next to Ron's.

"Miss Granger, I'm going to have to ask you to step outside until I'm finished," the nurse said as soon as she saw her.

"But—!"

"No 'buts'. Out, now," she said, pointing at the door. "I'll come get you as soon as I'm done."

Hermione sighed in frustration but relented, nonetheless.

Outside the hospital wing, she sat on the cold stone floor, waiting.

All she could see over and over was Harry's lifeless body covered in blood. No one could possibly understand how much that image had terrified her, how much it had shaken her so badly.

It was the image of her scariest nightmares. The image of her darkest, most petrifying thoughts. And she never wanted to see it again.

Ever.

But as more tears spilled from her eyes, she realized with an agonizing pain, that she very well could see it again. That Harry _could_ die...

In an instant, everything suddenly became so much more real. In all the past months of research and preparation, never once did she truly stop to think of Harry's fate. She had always just _believed_ that he would be okay. That they would all be okay. That they would defeat Voldemort. That they would live happily ever after.

But this wasn't a fairytale. This was life.

And they had no guarantee.

Taking a deep shuddering breath in, she leaned her head against the wall behind her and closed her eyes.

She'd never felt so alone in all her life. There was nobody she could talk to about her fears. Nobody but the two boys currently lying in the hospital beds inside. One unconscious. One asleep.

Both barely escaping death's reach.

Hermione looked down at Harry's robes which she was still clutching tightly in her hands. She brought them hesitantly up to her nose and took in a long deep breath. They smelled faintly of him.

She breathed the fabric in again and it seemed to calm her nerves somehow. Something about his scent always made her feel safe and relaxed. Like she was home.

"Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey said, popping her head out of the door a few moments later. "You may come and see him now."

Hermione quickly stood up and made her way inside to Harry's bed.

His head was wrapped in white bandages and all traces of blood were gone.

"So?" she asked. "Will there be any lasting damage?"

"It doesn't appear so, but we won't know for certain until he wakes up," Madam Pomfrey replied.

Hermione was not fully contented by this answer. "When will that be?"

"Sometime later on today, or tomorrow."

Hermione nodded solemnly, dropping herself unceremoniously onto the seat next to his bed.

"I'll leave you alone, then," the woman said gently as she turned and headed for her office. But she paused before reaching the door. "He'll be okay, Miss Granger. They both will."

"You don't know that," Hermione whispered to herself, so only she could hear.

She let her eyes slowly take in his unconscious form. Despite everything, he truly looked at peace for the first time in a long time. The permanent worry lines that seemed to be etched into his forehead were gone. He looked young again. He looked sixteen again.

Her hand accidentally brushed against his as she moved to wipe a tear that had escaped her eye.

She remembered holding his hand a couple of times in the past. In the moments when she was so afraid that she had latched onto the only person that made her feel safe.

His touch always calmed her. Just like his scent. Just like everything about him.

Carefully, she took his limp hand in hers and gently rubbed it with her thumb. She'd never quite noticed how thin his fingers were, or how bony his wrist was. But his hand was larger than hers and more rough.

She laced her fingers between his and closed her eyes. She had always found the idea of certain people's hands fitting together perfectly quite a foolish one. But in that moment, she couldn't help but wonder at how good her hand felt in his.

Several minutes passed like this until she finally let go reluctantly and took to simply staring at him again, and waiting. For what, she didn't know. He wouldn't wake for many more hours. And yet, she continued to wait.

"What the bloody hell happened to him?" said an alarmed voice to her right, shaking her out of her thoughts.

She looked up at Ron who had awoken from his slumber. "McLaggen," Hermione replied listlessly. "He hit Harry in the head with a Bludger."

"WHAT?"

"Not on purpose," Hermione amended. "He was just being thick as usual. He stole one of the beater's bats and well..."

"I'll kill him," Ron stated simply, half getting out of bed.

"You'll do nothing of the sort," Madam Pomfrey said, appearing out of nowhere with a potion for Ron. She pushed him back onto his bed, receiving a very disgruntled look from the red head.

"I'm pretty sure the rest of the team is taking care of him now as we speak, anyway," Hermione assured him.

"Good," he said, but still not sounding fully appeased.

"Hermione?" Ron asked after Madam Pomfrey had left them alone again.

"Hmm?" she replied, not taking her eyes of Harry.

"Are you okay?" he asked uncertainly.

She paused before answering, knowing that there was no point lying. "No, Ron...I'm not."

"Well...erm...do you want to...to talk about it or something?" Ron asked, looking slightly uncomfortable.

Hermione had to smile. "It's okay Ron, we don't have to talk."

"No, Hermione, tell me," he said, more strength behind his words this time. "Just talk and I'll listen."

She exhaled loudly, not even knowing what to say. Hadn't she just moments before been wishing that she had someone to talk to?

"I suppose...you're really the only person I _can_ talk to about this..." Hermione started.

"Go on," Ron urged.

"It's nothing...it's just...well I mean, it's not even that big of a deal..."

"I'm not really understanding, Hermione..." Ron said hesitantly.

"That's because I'm not really making much sense," Hermione admitted.

"Listen, if you don't want to tell me because we've been...well...ignoring each other for three months, then—"

"No, no, it's not that," Hermione said, waving him off.

"What, then?"

"You didn't see him, Ron!" she exclaimed suddenly. "After he got hit...He was lying on the ground, looking like...like...like he was dead or something."

"There was blood everywhere," she continued, her eyes becoming watery. "And I came here and I thought to myself...my two best friends are lying in hospital beds and I'm all alone! Both of you, you could have _died_. And where would that leave me? Where would that leave me, Ron?"

Hermione felt slightly ashamed of herself for crying in front of him, but she just couldn't help it.

She saw Ron shift slightly in his bed, as if he wanted to reach out and comfort her but didn't quite know how.

"But we're okay, Hermione, we both are," Ron said quietly.

She sniffled loudly, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Yes, but for how long? None of us are safe," she said. Then dropping her voice to a whisper, "Not you, not me, and _especially_ not Harry."

Ron stared at her for a moment, before letting his eyes drop to the ground as if in defeat. "I wish there was something I could say, Hermione."

"You don't have to say anything, you just have to listen."

"Good, cause I'm rubbish at giving advice," Ron said.

"I know," she said, giving him a watery smile.

"Harry would know what to say," Ron said quietly a moment later, turning his head to stare off into space. "He's always been better at the...talking stuff."

"Talking stuff?" Hermione said, with amusement.

"See? Perfect example right there."

"Well, you're pretty good at the 'humour stuff'," Hermione confessed.

"You think I'm funny?" Ron asked, surprised.

"You have your moments, yes."

"Well, I think you're brilliant," Ron blurted out.

He instantly became a bright shade of red as he turned his head away from her, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Hermione pretended not to take notice, and muttered a quick 'thanks' as she looked everywhere but at him.

She felt slightly uncomfortable all of a sudden, especially since a part of her was seriously beginning to believe Ginny's suspicions about Ron could be true...

* * *

><p>"And then we all cornered him in the locker room and each took turns casting our own separate and quite unique jinxes, if I do say so myself. I'm actually surprised he hasn't been in here yet. I suppose he still hasn't gotten out of his leg-locker..."<p>

Hermione listened to Ginny's account, trying her best to feign amusement. They were both sitting by Harry's bedside as Ginny explained to her and Ron the torture they had put McLaggen under.

"At least it'll teach him not to be such a gormless wanker," Ginny said, causing Madam Pomfrey to throw her a look of disapproval as she walked by.

"Harry gave us a right scare though, didn't he?" Ginny said, her tone softer now as she looked upon the boy in question.

Hermione watched as Ginny carefully moved a lock of his black hair away from the bandages around his head, letting her hand linger there for a moment. She looked away, not very keen on observing the scene before her.

"Miss Granger, you've been here all day. Don't you think you should go down to the Great Hall and get something to eat?" said Madam Pomfrey with concern.

"But...but what if he wakes up?" she replied, sounding somewhat foolish.

"Then he'll be here waiting for you when you return," the nurse said resolutely.

Hermione sighed. "Fine," she conceded quietly, her stomach choosing that exact moment to start rumbling.

"Oh, and Miss Weasley?" Madam Pomfrey called.

"Yes?"

"Perhaps a change in clothes is in order?"

Ginny looked down at her dirty Quidditch robes that she had still not changed out of since the match that morning. "Nothing gets past you ma'am, does it?"

"Of course not, dear," the woman smiled.

Hermione sat alone at the Gryffindor table for dinner, eating as quickly as she could so she could return to the hospital wing.

"You're eating awfully fast," said a dreamy voice behind her.

She turned to see Luna take a seat beside her on the bench. "Yes, well, Harry's going to be waking up any moment now."

She realized this explanation made very little sense, but Luna nodded her head thoughtfully nonetheless.

"That's a very good reason," Luna said, simply.

"Thank you..." Hermione replied, uncertainly. Taking in her last gulp of pumpkin juice, she stood up abruptly and offered her farewell to the girl. "Sorry, Luna, but I have to go now."

"I understand," Luna said distantly as if she wasn't quite finished with her thought.

"Well...bye," Hermione said, starting to walk away.

"It's always hard to watch the one you love get hurt."

Hermione stopped in her tracks.

"Sorry?" she asked, turning around.

"There's no need to apologize," Luna said vaguely, turning her head slightly to the side.

And with that, she walked away.

Hermione looked around her, but no one seemed to have heard the conversation that just took place.

_If you could even call that a conversation..._

Shaking her head slightly, she continued her way down the hall, deciding she would ponder Luna's words another time.

Once she was outside the hospital wing, she could hear two very distinct voices emanating from somewhere inside.

Smiling wide, she opened the doors and rushed in.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, not quite able to contain her excitement. It seemed like years, not hours since they'd last talked.

He smiled back at her, filling her up with a warmth that seemed to instantly dissolve all her worries and fears.

"How are you feeling?" she said, taking a seat next to his bed.

"Well besides the fact that I want to murder McLaggen and I have a pounding headache...just peachy."

Hermione could only smile in reply. In fact, all she could do since she entered the hospital wing was smile.

_Stop smiling, you idiot._

Hermione cleared her throat. "Just promise me you'll find a different replacement next time," she demanded.

"Hermione, I'd rather let _you_ play than have McLaggen anywhere near the team again," Harry assured her.

Ron snorted loudly from the bed next to him. "I'd rather forfeit..." he said quietly.

He was quickly met with a nice pillow to the face.

Harry instantly burst out into laughter, only to be joined in seconds later by Hermione and Ron.

"Strange lot, you are..." Madam Pomfrey said, walking past them with a bewildered expression.

* * *

><p>AN: Hi everyone! This didn't take TOO long to post, I hope? I apologize as always for the long wait, and I thank you as always for reading! And a very special thanks to those of you who always review and leave me some really great feedback. I honestly appreciate it so much! I know that many of you despise the 6th book so I hope it will come as a great consolation to you all that I will most likely only have one more chapter in this year and then we'll be moving on! Yay! As for the 7th book, I plan on spending even less time on that than the 6th. I'm really only going to cover the major details. Anyway, thank you all again very much. I hope you enjoy this chapter!


	27. Chapter 27

_That year was a mess. All of it. _I_ was a mess. _

_I'd been pulled and stretched and squeezed beyond all my emotional limits. I'd cried more tears than I had ever cried before. I felt more pain than I knew was possible. I lost myself, I drowned myself, I worried myself spare. _

_I was too young. Too young to know how to handle it all. Too young to understand. _

_But I tried my best..._

_I know I made mistakes. I said things and did things I normally wouldn't have said or did. But I was seventeen. I was seventeen and I was a mess. _

* * *

><p>"Here, let me help you with that."<p>

Harry looked up from the shoelace he was currently doing up on his left trainer. "Hermione, I had a concussion. I didn't break my arms."

Feeling a slight blush colour her cheeks, Hermione cleared her throat. "Right...sorry..."

After he was done, he stood up from the hospital bed, wincing slightly.

"What is it? Are you still in pain?" Hermione asked quickly, touching his arm.

Harry shook his head as if to clear it. "No, just dizzy."

"Well, that's understandable, you have been lying in bed for a couple of days. And of course, the head trauma doesn't help matters. I'm sure Madam Pomfrey could—"

"Hermione," Harry interjected, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Breathe."

Hermione stared at him.

"Are you breathing?"

She nodded.

"Good, now let's go," he said, leading the way out of the hospital wing.

She watched as he exited into the corridor, and then quickly ran to catch up with him. "Well, excuse me for being worried!" she said huffily.

He stopped and turned around to face her, hands in his pockets. "There's nothing to be worried about," he insisted. "I've had loads of Quidditch accidents before. This one's no different."

"Harry, it could have turned out much worse than it did," she said seriously, the image of his lifeless body forcing its way in front of her mind's eye.

"Well it_ didn't_. And I'm here now, I'm in one piece, and I'm hungry. So could we please go down to dinner?" After a moment, Harry sighed. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" Hermione replied in a dispirited tone, arms folded across her chest.

"Like you're disappointed in me or something."

"I'm not."

"Oh, how convincing," Harry replied sarcastically.

Hermione let her arms fall to her sides. "It's nothing," she said as she started walking down the corridor.

"And why do I get the feeling that you're lying?" he enquired.

She turned to face him. "I mean it, Harry. It's nothing. You're right...I just worry too much."

"Wait a minute," he said, stopping her. "I never said that."

"Well you obviously think it, don't you?" she stated. "Don't you?"

"Well...I mean...not really..."

Hermione let out a humourless laugh. "You don't have to lie to me, Harry," she said. "I know I'm always worrying and nagging and on your back about everything..."

Harry remained silent, shuffling his feet slightly.

"I only do it because I care," Hermione finished quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and avoiding his eyes.

"I know that," he responded, earnestly.

"Do you?" she challenged, a hard look in her eyes.

He looked somewhat taken aback by her tone. "Of course I do, Hermione..."

She sighed loudly, turning away from him to stare out the large window facing the grounds. "Look, I'm not that hungry. Why don't you just go on by yourself?"

Her proclamation was met with silence, and then: "Are you sure?" Harry asked, uncertainly.

Hermione felt a familiar sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. But somehow, it was different than usual. She didn't feel hurt. She felt, as Harry so rightly observed, disappointed.

"Yes, Harry," she replied, "I'm sure."

It was funny, really. He always seemed to know when something was wrong with her.

He just rarely understood what that something was.

* * *

><p>The days seemed to be melting away before Hermione's eyes at such a speed that a permanent dread had somehow settled in her stomach. March had slipped into April and May had crept in immediately afterwards.<p>

All too soon, the year would come to end. And what then? She constantly wondered to herself. What could the next year possibly bring?

It was clear what had to be done. First and foremost, the horcruxes needed to be destroyed. But how much of this task would fall on them? Dumbledore had already taken care of the ring. What of the others? Would he find and destroy the rest? Would he clear the entire pathway for Harry, and leave him to deliver the final blow against Voldemort?

Hermione found herself both terrified and angered that Dumbledore had yet to set out a clear plan for the coming months. The war was rapidly escalating, more and more people were dying, and it was quite apparent that they needed to take action immediately.

Yet, here they all were, going about their daily lives as if everything was under control. It maddened her! Because everything was absolutely _not _under control.

Some days, it felt as if she was the only one who realized this.

"Hey."

Hermione looked up to see Ginny taking a seat across from her at the table.

"What are you up to?" she asked.

"Reading," Hermione replied as if it were obvious.

"Oh, that's nice," Ginny said vaguely as she took to staring around the common room.

"Is something wrong...?" Hermione asked with one eyebrow raised.

"Hmm? Oh, no nothing."

"All right then..."

The two girls sat in silence for a moment until Ginny begin tapping her fingers lightly on the table.

Hermione attempted to ignore it for as long as possible until: "Would you stop that?" she said, gritting her teeth.

"Wha—? Oh, sorry!" Ginny responded, immediately removing her hands from the top of the table.

"Ginny, if something's bothering you, can you please just let it out now before I strangle you?" Hermione stated, setting her book down.

The red head sighed defeatedly. "Okay, _fine_," she said folding her hands neatly and looking intently at them. "I...I need to break up with Dean."

Hermione stared at her. "So...break up with him," she said, somewhat confused.

"I wasn't finished. I need to break up with him because...well because...I like someone else," she said, spilling out the words in a rush.

"Oh..."

Ginny groaned. "I knew you'd respond like that!"

"Like what?"

"_That_, the 'oh...'Like I'm some sort of dreadful human being for even thinking such thoughts."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ginny, sure it's not the most honourable reason to end a relationship, but I'd hardly consider you dreadful for it," she said, opening her book back up to continue reading.

But Ginny immediately placed a hand on top of the page.

"What?" Hermione demanded, starting to get irritated.

"Well, aren't you going to ask me who he is?" Ginny asked.

"No...unless you'd like to tell me, in which case I'd be obliged to listen."

"What kind of girl are you?" Ginny said in exasperation.

"The kind who thinks you should be more worried about your upcoming OWLs at the moment than boys."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I've got that under control," Ginny said, waving her off.

Hermione sighed. "Let's hope. Okay, so, who is it then?"

Ginny looked around to make sure no one was listening. "Well...it's...okay, don't laugh or anything, but...I know what you're going to say, it's just—"

"Are you done stuttering now, or would you prefer to write it down?" she cut in impassively.

"It's Harry."

Hermione immediately stiffened. "Oh...well, I mean...you already told me you liked him a while ago..."

"I know, but...it's different now."

"How so?"

"Well, before it was more of a far-off longing sort of thing. If that even makes sense. I mean, I sort of just buried my feelings and hoped they'd stay there," Ginny said, wringing her hands.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She wished for nothing more than to get up and leave. This was just about the last conversation she wanted to have with Ginny at the moment. Or with anyone, really.

"So they...didn't stay there then?" Hermione asked somewhat stupidly.

"Well, no. I mean, here's the thing," Ginny begin. "I told you already how I never really gave up on him, right?"

"Right."

"And how I've just sort of been...waiting?"

"Yes."

"Well...this is going to sound completely and utterly mad, but lately I feel like...maybe..._maybe_...Harry may or may not have some sort of feelings for me in return..."

Ginny's face instantly turned a bright shade of crimson following her own proclamation. She looked around her once again, scoping out any eavesdroppers, then turned back to Hermione.

"Am I completely delusional?" she asked, uncertainly.

And this was precisely the reason why this was the last conversation she wished to have with Ginny. Because, really, she had one of two choices to make.

She could lie and say she didn't believe Harry had feelings for her.

Or she could tell the truth.

The former would be a completely treacherous thing to do that would fill her to the brim with guilt. The latter would cut through her like a knife.

She chose the knife.

Because no matter what, Ginny was her best friend. She was her sister. And Hermione would let absolutely no amount of hurt or jealousy come in the way of that.

"You're not delusional."

"What?" Ginny said, clearly not expecting this answer.

"I...I think you're right. I think Harry might have feelings for you," Hermione said, the words like acid on her tongue.

A look of pure bliss passed briefly over Ginny's face. It was a look she couldn't ever remember seeing on the girl before.

"You mean it, Hermione? You're not just saying that?" she questioned adamantly.

"Of course I mean it."

Ginny put a hand to her mouth, but it did nothing to cover the obvious smile that seemed to be frozen permanently on her face. "I just...I r_eally_ hope you're right, Hermione," she said.

Hermione couldn't help but feel torn between sadness for herself and happiness for Ginny. It was cruel. It was cruel that she wanted so badly to be able to rejoice but simply couldn't.

And for the first time ever, she sincerely wished that she never fallen for Harry in the first place.

Life, it seemed, would be so much easier.

* * *

><p>The final Quidditch match of the season, Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw, was rapidly approaching, much to Hermione's indifference. But of course, it was all anyone could talk, think, or breathe about. With Katie Bell back and McLaggen gone, the Gryffindor team was finally back to top form.<p>

The mood of the castle seemed to have lifted, in general, the past couple of days.

Well, for everyone around Hermione, at least.

Ginny was pleased to inform her that she had officially broken up with Dean. Ron was more than elated to have finally gotten rid of Lavender. And of course, Harry seemed overjoyed by both of these facts, the former more so than the latter.

Naturally he had never voiced this aloud, but it was fairly obvious to anyone who had eyes in their head. And unfortunately, Hermione most certainly did.

She would often catch him staring at Ginny these days, laughing at all her jokes, being overtly awkward in the most awkward of ways.

And of course, the redhead found all of this extremely endearing. Because just like Hermione, she had eyes in her head. Just like Hermione, she could clearly pick up on all the obvious signs. And just like Hermione, she was completely taken with Harry Potter.

"I just want him to make the first move, though, you know?" Ginny told her one day as they sat in the comfy chairs by the fire. "I've waited six years, I suppose I could wait a little longer."

"You don't think he's going to chicken out or something, do you?" Ginny asked suddenly, turning to face Hermione.

Hermione absolutely hated moments like this. But unfortunately, she and Ginny seemed to be having a lot of them lately. And during every single one, she would fight the same internal battle.

She soon found that being in this position was, quite honestly, the hardest thing she ever had to do.

She hated being jealous. She hated it with every fibre of her being. It made her feel...dark. Like her heart was polluted, when all she wanted it to be was pure.

Some days, she found herself wishing that it was anyone but Ginny. Any girl _but_ Ginny. Because no matter what, Hermione could never hate her. She physically was not able to hate her. And she didn't want to!

Taking a deep breath in, she tried to rid herself of every feeling as she looked up at the girl. "I'm sure he'll come around," she answered truthfully. "Knowing him, he's just waiting for the right moment. Probably some time when Ron isn't nearby."

Ginny groaned. "Great, so that'll be never. Ron sticks to him like a wart."

Hermione forced a smile. "I'm sure it'll be sometime soon."

"Hey, have either of you seen Harry?"

Both girls looked up to see none other than Ron standing there with an anxious expression on his face.

"No, why?" Hermione answered.

"I ran into him a little bit ago and he looked...I dunno strange. He asked me for my potions book, and after I gave it to him he just sort of ran out," Ron explained.

"What do you mean by 'looked strange'?" asked Ginny.

"Well, for one thing, he was covered in blood."

"_What?" _both girls exclaimed.

"I don't think it was his though," he assured them.

"Oh, how comforting," Ginny said sarcastically.

"Did he seem okay? What did he want with your potions book? Where is he now? Why didn't you follow him?" Hermione asked, bewildered.

"Slow down, Hermione!" Ron said, looking as if he were trying to process everything.

"Just answer the questions, you twat!" Ginny demanded.

Ron exhaled loudly, running a hand through his hair. "Well, he seemed fine physically, I suppose. But, he looked like he'd seen his own ghost or something. And I have no idea what he wanted with my book. What were the other questions...?" he asked uncertainly.

Hermione took a seat, ignoring him. "What's he gotten himself into now," she said fearfully, more to herself than anyone else.

The three of them waited there for some time until the portrait hole finally opened to reveal Harry.

He looked awful, to say the least. His robes were indeed covered in blood, but his face was what scared Hermione the most. He looked white as a sheet, and utterly miserable.

He seemed to notice them sitting by the fire, but it looked as if he was contemplating just slipping into his dormitory instead.

"Harry! Harry, over here!" Ron called loudly, making everyone in the common room turn their heads.

Hermione had to admire his tactlessness for a moment.

With what looked like a heavy heart, Harry made his way over to them and sat down unceremoniously on one of the chairs.

"What is it, Harry? What's wrong?" Hermione asked softly.

He exhaled sharply, throwing his head into his hands, and practically pulling at his hair.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny looked at each other nervously, wondering what on earth could possibly elicit such a response from him.

With his head still in his hands, he finally spoke."I've done something really,_ really_ stupid."

They waited for him to continue, and when he finally did, Hermione was left in utter shock.

She saw his miserable face. She saw his guilt. She saw his remorse.

And yet, the only words that seemed to pass through her mind at that moment were:

_How could you?_

She'd warned him. She'd warned him a thousand times.

Why did he always have to be so rash? Would it kill him to think over something once in his life before jumping right into it?

Life was about careful planning. It was about thought and consideration. And it _wasn't_ about impulse!

Hermione wanted so badly to yell out to him, to shake him, to make him understand. He simply could not carry on like this. Not if he wanted to survive...

_How could you? S_he repeated over and over in her mind.

_Do my words mean nothing to you, Harry? Do they mean absolutely nothing!?_

Above all, what infuriated Hermione the most was that Harry insisted on defending the stupid book he had so blindly trusted in the first place. The same book that almost caused him to become a murderer.

_But it did also save a life..._

_Oh, great so you're defending it now, too? _

_Well, Ron could have died without the Prince, couldn't he?_

_No, no, no! It's not 'The Prince'. It never was 'The Prince'! It's just a book that some dark wizard obliterated. _

_Well, what about the Felix Felicis? Harry would have never been able to win it without his Potions book._

_THEN I WOULD HAVE WON IT FOR HIM!_

This thought seemed to silence all other voices in her head for the moment.

"Harry," Hermione began, "how can you still stick up for that book when the spell—"

"Will you stop harping on about the book?" snapped Harry. "The Prince only copied it out! It's not like he was advising anyone to use it! For all we know, he was making a note of something that had been used against him!"

"I don't believe this," said Hermione, "You're actually defending—"

"I'm not defending what I did!" said Harry quickly.

And they continued in this manner until Ginny spoke up as well.

"Give it a rest, Hermione!" said Ginny. "By the sound of it, Malfoy was trying to use an Unforgivable Curse, you should be glad Harry had something good up his sleeve!"

Hermione stared at the girl in surprise. "Well, of course I'm glad Harry wasn't cursed!" she said, stung. "But you can't call that Sectumsempra spell good, Ginny, look where it's landed him!"

All three of their eyes were on her, and she felt herself heat up with the intensity of their glares. She felt so alone in that moment and she desperately wanted to regain her footing.

She cleared her throat slightly. "And I'd have thought, seeing what this has done to your chances in the match—"

"Oh, don't start acting as though you understand Quidditch," snapped Ginny, "you'll only embarrass yourself."

Hermione's mouth opened just the slightest bit in shock. In that one moment, she felt as if the girl had quite literally slapped her in the face.

It hurt her in a way she hadn't been hurt in a while. She felt small and foolish. And alone.

She hated feeling alone more than anything in the word. Because it was a feeling she knew all too well.

And as Hermione got up a moment later to escape to her dormitory, the same words seemed to be embedded in her mind.

_How could you?_

* * *

><p>Hermione sat on the windowsill of her dormitory gazing out at the large black lake. It had been some time since her row with Harry, and she was already feeling slightly guilty.<p>

She still hadn't completely forgiven him for being so careless, but she realized that she may have overreacted just a bit.

Harry had made a mistake, and he regretted it deeply. She understood that, she could accept that.

"So, why am I so upset?" Hermione asked the empty room.

_Because he didn't listen to you, he doesn't care about your advice. _

_Because you worry too much. _

Hermione thought back to the conversation they had after Harry had left the hospital wing.

"_I know I'm always worrying and nagging and on your back about everything...I only do it because I care."_

"_I know that," he responded, earnestly. _

"_Do you?"_

_..._

"Do you, Harry?" Hermione whispered aloud to herself.

There was a light knock on the dormitory door a few moments later, then a muffled voice: "Hermione, it's me...Ginny."

"Can I help you?" Hermione said, with a slight bitterness.

The girl sighed, and then let herself in the room.

"Hermione, look, I'm sorry, okay?" Ginny said, as she walked up to her. "I didn't mean what I said earlier. It just sort of...slipped out."

"How unfortunate," she replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You're mad at me," Ginny said. It wasn't a question, but a statement. "And you have every right to be...I'm an idiot."

Hermione thought she may have detected a slight look of shame in the girl's face. "Why do you say that?" she asked.

Ginny sighed again, sitting down on Parvati's bed. "Because I just _am_," she stated. "Merlin...I'm turning into one of those girls."

Hermione looked at her, confused. "What girls? What are you talking about?"

"You were right about the book, Hermione. And me of all people should have yelled at Harry for trusting it. He should have listened to you! I mean...yeah, you probably didn't go about it in the _best_ manner..."

"But anyway," said Ginny, "Like an idiot, I stuck up for Harry. Because...well, because...I don't know—"

"Because you fancy him," Hermione finished for her.

Ginny looked down, exhaling loudly. "Yeah, because I fancy him."

The two girls were silent for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts.

"You're not an idiot," Hermione spoke up finally.

"What?" Ginny said, slightly taken aback.

"I was too hard on him," Hermione admitted. "Yes, he made a mistake, but...he obviously regrets it. He doesn't need someone harping on him right now. But unfortunately, that's all I seem to be doing."

"For good reason," Ginny insisted. "Hermione, if it weren't for you, both Harry and Ron would have dropped out of Hogwarts years ago, or worse! Trust me, they'd be lost without you."

"Well I'm not going back on what I said," Hermione assured her. "Harry did something really dangerous, and I just hope that he learned his lesson. He can't keep acting on his own whims...he just can't."

Ginny seemed to stare at her for a moment with intense, searching eyes. "And why can't he, exactly?" she asked, casually.

Hermione bit her lip, a nervous habit of hers that Ginny would surely be able to pick up on. She hated lying, but there really was no other choice. Even though she trusted the girl deeply, it was up to Harry whether he wanted to tell her about the prophecy or not.

"Well...none of us can!" Hermione stated. "We're in the middle of a war, Ginny. We all have to be careful."

"No," Ginny said. "That's not it. There's something you're not telling me. Something important."

Hermione sighed. "It's just not my place to tell."

There was small bout of silence, and then Ginny finally spoke up. "Yeah...I figured as much," she said, solemnly.

* * *

><p>By Saturday morning, Harry and Hermione were on normal terms once again, and Hermione was relieved to see that Harry had not gone back to retrieve his Potions book from the room of requirement.<p>

They were sitting in the Great Hall for breakfast as the entire school prepared to head down to the final Quidditch match of the season. The entire school except for Harry, it seemed.

He was currently staring intently at his porridge, looking as if he wished to drown himself in it.

"It'll be over before you know it," Hermione said, attempting to comfort him. But she didn't think any words would bring him much comfort now.

"What if we lose, Hermione?" Harry asked, dreadfully. "The team's going to hate me. What am I talking about? They _already_ hate me. Merlin, everyone hates me!"

"I don't hate you," Hermione offered.

"Oh, gee thanks."

She sighed in slight exasperation. "Will you relax, please? Just try and be optimistic. We still have a very good chance of winning."

Harry ran a hand nervously through his hair, a motion that didn't escape Hermione's attention in the slightest. He did it about three more times in the span of a minute until she grabbed his arm abruptly.

"Stop," she demanded, letting go rather reluctantly. "Look, maybe you should just head down there. Whatever Snape's got planned for you will probably keep your mind occupied. If you stick around here any longer, you'll go bald."

"I guess you're right," he said, dejectedly.

His shoulders were slumped and he had such a sad expression on his face, it was all Hermione could do to refrain herself from throwing her arms around him.

"See you later, Hermione," he said. And with that, he walked away.

In the end, Harry needn't have been worried. Gryffindor had successfully snatched the Quidditch Cup for the third time in a row, and Hermione had to admit, even she was delighted by this fact.

As everyone headed back to the common room after the match, there was a profound air of excitement among the Gryffindors. Hermione couldn't wait to see Harry's reaction when he returned from detention and knew he would be thrilled beyond belief.

The celebration was in full swing by the time the portrait hole finally opened and Harry stepped in.

He gaped as everyone immediately began to scream at the sight of him, and several hands pulled him into the room.

Hermione couldn't help but laugh joyfully at the expression on his face. He looked so utterly happy. And in that moment she was overcome by the sudden, wild urge to kiss him.

She hadn't felt this strongly since the day she made the decision d to bury her feelings, but right now, she let herself revel in them. The excitement in the room was contagious and she swore she might have captured his lips in hers if he had taken even a step closer to her.

"We won!" yelled Ron, bounding into sight and brandishing the silver Cup at Harry. "We won! Four hundred and fifty to a hundred and forty! We won!"

Hermione watched as Ginny ran up to him as well. Her face looked slightly flushed, and she was beaming from ear to ear. Once she reached him, the redhead immediately threw her arms around Harry.

And just like that, without any sort of warning, Harry kissed her.

Hermione stared.

The joy she felt not seconds earlier had suddenly evaporated from every inch of her body. She could hear people screaming, yelling things out, whistling. But she couldn't understand a word. It was all a loud drone in her ears as she just continued to stare.

She stared for what seemed like hours.

Her mouth was dry, there was lump in the back of her throat, her face was burning, and it felt as if all the air was being squeezed out of her slowly and painfully.

She'd never felt this way in all her life.

It was an emotion she couldn't even describe.

It was pain. It was torture. It was hollowness and emptiness. It was hurt.

At last Harry and Ginny broke apart, and then wordlessly they left the common room, hands intertwined. But the image of them was still burned in the back of Hermione's eyelids, playing as if on repeat, making her feel the hurt over and over and over again.

Quickly and quietly, she managed to slip away from the common room and into her dormitory. Once she reached, she closed the door swiftly behind her, leaning against it and breathing heavily.

Hermione closed her eyes, forcing herself not to cry.

But it was just so hard...

"_I'm not crying, Mum!" a seven-year old Hermione exclaimed, tears falling down her cheeks. "I'm grown up now, only babies cry!"_

_Her mother stroked her hair gently. "But sometimes you have to cry, Hermione. Even grown-ups do it when they've been hurt badly enough..."_

Hermione slid down to the ground, her back still against the door. And just like that, tears began streaming down her face.

"It's just not fair!" she choked out to the empty room. "Why can't he love me the way I love him!?"

She hit her fist hard on the ground, tired of feeling all of these feelings. Tired of wanting something she could never have.

"It's not fair!" she cried out again, in between sobs. "I don't _want_ this anymore! I don't want it! WHY CAN'T I STOP LOVING YOU? WHY? _WHY?"_

She got up quickly and went for the pillow on her bed. Taking it her hands she threw it angrily at the wardrobe with as much strength as she could muster, letting out a fuming snarl as she did so.

It infuriated her that it made so little impact. So she went for something heavier.

Picking up a shoe, she quickly cast a silencing charm on the room, before facing off with the wardrobe again.

Swinging her arm back as far as it could go, she released the shoe hard and heard a satisfying _clunk_ as it hit the surface.

Adrenaline was now pumping through her veins, and she searched the room for yet another object. She couldn't seem to find anything large enough and let out a groan of frustration.

Getting on her knees, she looked underneath her bed and her eyes immediately landed on a neat pile of very heavy books.

The books she'd been reading for her research.

A fresh wave a tears began to cloud her vision, but she ignored them and slid the pile out from underneath the bed.

And one by one, she flung each volume madly against the wardrobe with such a force, that they bounced right back to her.

She was sobbing hard now, and there was only one book left in her arms. Looking down at it, she realized it was the journal she had received for Christmas. The book that held all her secrets. All her feelings, all her hopes and her fears. It was her memoir.

Taking quick, shallow breaths in, she brought the book slowly up behind her, preparing to launch it. But as she closed her eyes, some invisible force seemed to bring it back down.

And just like that, she let herself crumple to the floor.

Her breaths were becoming deeper and longer now, and she finally opened her eyes. The journal lay open on the ground before her.

She picked it up hesitantly, looking at an entry she had written months ago.

Her eyes scanned the page, and they seemed to gravitate to one single sentence in the very middle:

_Harry needs me, like I need him. _

She leaned her head back against the bed behind her, and hugged the book close to her chest, staying in that same position for some time.

Then finally, in somewhat of a shaky voice, she recited the next line: "And one day, I hope that he'll want me like I want him, love me like I love him."

And with that, she picked up all the books lying on the ground, stacked them neatly in a pile, and slid them underneath her bed once again.

* * *

><p>For the next two weeks, the pain Hermione felt had yet to subside. She did her best to avoid the new couple in every manner possible without raising any suspicion, but it was simply too hard. She was bound to end up sitting near them and watching as Ginny played with Harry's hair, or Harry interlaced his fingers with Ginny's, or they both gave each other quick kisses on the lips.<p>

The one thing she was grateful for was the fact that they were nowhere near as publicly affectionate as Ron and Lavender had been. In fact, the only time she had seen them give each other more than a peck was that first day after the Quidditch match.

And she silently thanked the heavens above for this, for she didn't think she would be able to breathe if she had to watch them snog right before her eyes day after day.

Of course, this didn't mean that they never took part in such activities. Much to Hermione's discomfort, Ginny had explained in quite unsettling detail all that had occurred after they left the common room on Saturday.

"I _swear_ my heart was going to beat out of my chest!" she had exclaimed. "He's actually not that bad of a kisser considering he hasn't had much practice..."

Hermione had to exercise every ounce of her willpower not to fall apart again. Inside, her mind was reeling and her heart was aching, but outside, her expression remained neutral.

What troubled her most was when she was actually _intrigued_ by what Ginny was telling her. It made it so much harder to maintain her composure, because she would usually just let everything in one ear and out the other. But like a fool, she _wanted_ to know how Harry kissed and smelled and tasted. She wanted to know what his hair felt like and how gentle his touch was. She revelled in the information as much as she loathed it.

"Half the time he doesn't even know what he's doing," Ginny laughed. "It's probably the cutest thing ever."

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows in question. "What exactly doesn't he know how to do...?"

"Oh, nothing too racy!" Ginny assured her. "I didn't go very far with Dean at all, and I don't plan on doing so with Harry just yet, either."

Hermione gulped at the idea of Harry and Ginny 'going far'. She didn't think she would be able to handle that information. Ever. In fact, it made her sick to her stomach just contemplating it.

"I just mean like all the relationship-y stuff," Ginny said. "I think sometimes he forgets I'm his girlfriend and can kiss me whenever he wants to. I'm usually the one who has to initiate everything."

Ginny giggled suddenly. "The other day he _asked_ me if he could touch my hair," she said, amused. Then she smiled mischievously before adding: "So, I told him he could touch any part of me he wanted."

Hermione's eyes widened.

The redhead simply laughed again. "You wouldn't _believe_ how red his face got!"

"Ginny, that's just cruel!" Hermione said, shaking her head, but smiling despite herself.

"Well, it's true," Ginny shrugged. "He can if he wants to."

Hermione stared at the girl in shock.

"Oh calm down, Hermione. I only say that because I know he wouldn't," Ginny said, chuckling. "Plus, I enjoy seeing him squirm. The poor bloke wouldn't know a sexual innuendo if it lay naked in his bed wearing only Dobby's socks."

"Don't go ruining him, Ginny," Hermione warned, and small part of her meant this warning quite seriously.

It was one of the things she loved most about Harry, after all. That despite everything he'd gone through in his life, there was still a certain innocence about him. It was almost refreshing.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Ginny smirked. "Anyway, I have to go to the library and drown myself in misery. Tell Harry I'll meet him at dinner if you see him."

"You better study hard and not spend the whole time daydreaming," Hermione said sternly.

"Can't make any promises," Ginny called behind her shoulder as she stalked down the spiral staircase.

Hermione followed her down not too long after and made her way over to Ron who was sitting by the fire.

"There you are!" he said as soon as he spotted her.

"You were looking for me?" she asked.

"Yes," he said, grabbing her arm and pulling her down to sit next to him.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, worriedly.

Ron looked around, checking to make sure no one was listening in. "Harry got a letter from Dumbledore. He's in his office right now."

"What did the letter say?" Hermione inquired.

"That he wanted Harry to go to his office as quick as he could," Ron answered. "Me and him reckon Dumbledore's found a _you-know-what_."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Well...this is excellent! Are they going to destroy it?"

"How the bloody hell should I know?" Ron said.

Hermione bit her lip. "I really wish we could just be there with him..."

"Me and you both," Ron grunted.

And so the two of them waited, each lost in their own thoughts.

"What do you suppose is going on right now?" Ron asked, breaking the long stretch of silence.

Before Hermione could answer, however, they saw Harry enter through the portrait hole, his face set in a steel-like determination.

"What does he want?" Hermione asked at once. "Harry, are you okay?" she added anxiously.

"I'm fine," said Harry shortly, racing past them and up the stairs into his dormitory.

"Where are you going?" she called after him. "Ron, go follow him up!"

"_You_ go follow him up," Ron said.

"It's the _boy's_ dormitory, Ronald. I'm not just going to go prance my way up there!"

"Why not? It's not like you haven't done it before."

"Why are you being so difficult? Just go!" she said, shoving him.

"You're the one being—"

But their argument was cut off by the sudden appearance of a panting Harry. "I've got to be quick," he said. "Dumbledore thinks I'm getting my Invisibility Cloak. Listen..."

And Harry quickly told them where he was going and why. Several times during his explanation, Hermione gasped aloud in horror.

She hadn't even considered the possibility of Harry going with Dumbledore to find and destroy the horcruxes. It seemed much too dangerous for her comfort. But apparently, this wasn't all that on Harry's mind at the moment.

"...so you see what this means?" Harry finished at a gallop. "Dumbledore won't be here tonight, so Malfoy's going to have another clear shot at whatever he's up to. Here—" He shoved the Marauder's map into Hermione's hands, and she looked down at it in bewilderment. "You've got to watch him and you've got to watch Snape too."

"Harry—" began Hermione, her eyes huge with fear.

"Take this as well—"

He thrust a pair of socks into Ron's hands.

"Thanks," said Ron. "Er—why do I need socks?"

"You need what's wrapped in them, it's the Felix Felicis. Share it between yourselves and Ginny too. Say good-bye to her for me."

Everything was moving much too fast. Hermione, who was usually quite quick on the uptake, was still attempting to register all that was happening. The way Harry was speaking...it sounded as if he was walking to his potential death.

"I'd better go, Dumbledore's waiting—"

"No!" Hermione exclaimed suddenly.

She wasn't ready! She wasn't ready for him to leave! It was all so abrupt. It was all too sudden. What if he got hurt? What if Dumbledore got hurt and Harry was left alone? What if...what if...?

_No, you mustn't think that way, Hermione, you mustn't think that way!_

She saw Ron unwrap the tiny bottle of golden potion, looking awestruck.

"We don't want it!" she said quickly, taking the bottle and holding it out to Harry. "You take it, who knows what you're going to be facing?"

"I'll be fine, I'll be with Dumbledore," said Harry. "I want to know you lot are okay..."

_No! No, don't leave! _she begged silently. _Please don't leave..._

"Don't look like that, Hermione," Harry said quietly. "I'll see you later..."

And he was off, hurrying back through the portrait hole.

Hermione sat down, defeatedly. In all these months, when she had envisioned this moment, when she saw Harry setting out to complete his mission...she had always pictured herself right there beside him.

Never, _never_, had she expected to be waiting around at home.

She felt Ron sit down next to her. "He'll be okay, Hermione. Dumbledore knows what he's doing," he assured her. "Here, we should probably keep our eyes on this."

Ron took the map she still had clutched in her hands. Before he could put his wand on the parchment to reveal its contents, however, Ginny walked in through the portrait hole.

"Hey, where were you lot at dinner?" she asked, looking around. "Where's Harry?"

Hermione and Ron exchanged a nervous look, an action that didn't escape Ginny's notice.

"Where's Harry?" she repeated, more adamantly.

"He's not here..." Ron answered.

"Clearly," Ginny shot back, her eyes flashing in irritation. "So, where's he gone?"

"Ginny," Hermione began hesitantly. "He...well...he—"

"We can't tell you," Ron cut in.

There was blazing look in the girl's eyes. "Listen to me," Ginny said in a dangerously quiet tone. "I know you three have your secrets. But right now, I don't give a _damn_ about any single one of them. Harry's _my_ boyfriend. And I think I have the right to know why he's not standing in front of me right now!"

Hermione and Ron looked at each other again.

"Stop doing that!" Ginny exclaimed in anger.

"Ginny, please, lower your voice," Hermione said, looking around. "Just sit down, we'll try and explain as best as we can."

She sat down with a huff, and folded her arms firmly. "Go on, then."

"Harry's gone somewhere with Dumbledore," Hermione said quietly. "We're not able to give you many details, not just because we can't, but simply because we don't know. It was an abrupt sort of thing. He told us to tell you he said good-bye."

"_Good-bye?"_ Ginny hissed. "What's that supposed to mean? Where did he go? How long is he going to be gone for?"

"We don't _know_," Ron said, annoyed. "All we know is why."

"Why, then?" she demanded. "Oh, let me guess, you can't tell me!"

When neither of them responded, Ginny groaned loudly. "This is pathetic," she said, throwing her arms up in frustration.

"I'm sorry, Ginny," Hermione said desperately.

"Well...is it...is it dangerous? What he's doing, is it dangerous?" the girl asked, fear evident in her voice.

Hermione swallowed. "Yes," she whispered.

Ginny's face turned white as a sheet.

"Hey, I can't find Malfoy," Ron spoke up suddenly. "Does that mean he's in the room of requirement?"

"What the hell are you—?"

"Let me see," Hermione said, cutting off Ginny. She searched the map for a few minutes, but couldn't seem to find him either. "I suppose he has to be..."

"Should we go there then? To the room of requirement? I mean...Harry seemed pretty convinced," Ron shrugged.

"He did, didn't he?" Hermione said, slowly. "What about Snape? It says here that he's in his office."

"Maybe we can split up. Harry told us to alert the DA members if something happened."

Hermione sighed. She'd spent a better portion of the year trying to convince Harry that he was wasting his time with Malfoy, and yet...something about the urgency in his tone when he had given them those instructions earlier had truly struck her.

"All right," she finally said. "Then we should alert them."

"Can someone _please_ explain to me what in Merlin's name is going on?" Ginny exclaimed.

Hermione let Ron do the talking while she worked on sending the message to the DA members through her enchanted coin.

"And...you're positive you told them to meet _here_," Ron asked as they congregated at the end of the corridor leading to the Room of Requirement some time later.

Hermione threw him an unpleasant look.

"Perhaps they all have yet to check their coins," Luna said dreamily.

Hermione, Ron, and Ginny were currently standing at the end of the corridor facing the only two DA members that had shown up to Hermione's call: Neville and Luna.

"I'm going to have to go with Luna on this one," Ginny agreed.

"We don't need anyone else," Neville said, determined. "We all fought at the Ministry last year and made it out alive. We can take on anything, right Ron?"

Ron smiled politely.

"No one said there was going to be any fighting, just yet," Hermione stated clearly. "All of this is simply precautionary."

"Precaution is better than cure," Luna proclaimed, using her finger to trace figure eights on the wall next to her.

"Exactly," Hermione stated. "So, I say we split up. Some of us stay here to keep an eye on Malfoy, and the others will go down to keep an eye on Snape."

"I'll stay here with the moron," Ron offered.

"Me too," Neville said hastily, clearly preferring to be as far away from Snape as possible.

"All right, well, we should probably have three people with Malfoy since he seems to be the one causing all the trouble here," Hermione stated. "Ron, you take the map, and I'll go down to Snape's office. Who wants to join me?"

"We'll take Ginny," Ron said without delay.

Ginny threw him an admonishing look.

"Okay, so Luna and I will head down to the dungeons then. Ron, if anything happens, you know where to find us," Hermione said, pointing to the map. "And before we go, everyone take a sip of this. It's a luck potion. Once again, only precautionary."

She reached into her pocket for the bottle of Felix Felicis, passing it to Neville, who passed it to Ginny when he was done, each trying their very best to preserve enough potion for the next person. As Luna handed the bottle over to Ron, he immediately passed it to Hermione instead.

Hermione gave him a look of exasperation. "It's not going to make a difference, Ron."

But he merely shrugged. "I'd just rather you go first."

She sighed. "Fine."

After they were finished, Hermione and Luna bade the others farewell.

Hours later, the two girls were still stationed near Snape's office, waiting in pensive silence.

"This is quite dull," Luna said in an interested voice.

"I suppose nothing's happened with Ron and the others...they would have come to find us..." Hermione said, more to herself.

"You're in doubt," Luna stated.

"I just have a bad feeling..."

After another moment of silence, Luna spoke up again. "There's a voice. Do you hear it?" she asked with wonder.

"I can't say I do, Luna," Hermione replied warily.

"It's getting closer..."

Hermione looked at the girl oddly. Her eyes were wide as saucers as she cupped her hand to her ear. "Luna, I really don't think—"

But she paused mid sentence. She could hear it, too...

A voice was coming closer and closer. It seemed they were shouting something...

"DEATH EATERS IN THE CASTLE! DEATH EATERS IN THE CASTLE!"

All of a sudden, Flitwick came sprinting down the dungeon, completely ignoring the two girls as he reached Snape's door, knocking frantically.

Hermione's heart was beating like mad as she thought of the others upstairs. The Death Eaters had to have come into the castle through Malfoy...

What if someone was hurt? She had to go, she had to find them!

"What was that?" Hermione said suddenly. A loud thump had just emanated from nearby, and a moment later, Snape appeared in the corridor, looking left and right before heading upstairs.

"Where's Professor Flitwick?" Luna asked in uncharacteristic seriousness.

"I don't know..." Hermione replied quietly. "But Snape's obviously gone to help fight the Death Eaters..."

"You think so?" Luna asked curiously.

"Why wouldn't he?" she asked. "Whatever, that's not important right now. We need to go upstairs and find the others."

Hermione started walking, but noticed Luna had stayed behind. She was moving towards Snape's office instead.

"Luna, where are you going?" Hermione demanded. "We have to hurry!"

But the girl ignored her.

With a frustrated sigh, Hermione quickly followed her inside.

"Luna, we have to—Oh my God!" she cried out, coming to an abrupt halt as she saw Flitwick's motionless body lying on the ground.

"He's been stunned," Luna observed.

Hermione gulped fearfully, and then uttered a single word:

"_Snape_."

* * *

><p>It was beautiful summer's day. The sun was shining brightly, reflecting off the lake. There were rows upon rows of witches and wizards, goblins and warlocks, beasts of almost every nature. It was the largest assortment of people Hermione could ever recall seeing in all her life. And they were all facing one single marble table at the front.<p>

Dumbledore was gone.

He'd left them. He'd left them without so much as a goodbye.

He left them in misery, hopelessness, and defeat.

What now? What was she to do now? What was Harry to do now?

They were all alone, Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Alone despite the hundreds of people surrounding them. People much older than they were, much more experienced than they were, much smarter, much wiser.

And yet, _and yet_, the fate of the world rested on _their_ shoulders. Theirs and no one else's.

Tears streamed down Hermione's face as the truth swept over her more forcefully than ever.

There was no one to help them but themselves. No one to guide them or teach them. After this term came to an end, the three of them would be flung out into the cruel world all alone.

And so Hermione cried. Because she'd depended on Dumbledore. Because she'd put all her faith in Dumbledore.

And because Dumbledore was now gone.

Hermione remained seated in her chair by the lake long after the ceremony had ended. There was a smattering of people here and there who had yet to leave their seats as well. Many of them were still crying softly or staring vacantly in disbelief.

She got up from her chair and slowly made her way over to the large white tomb in the front.

For a while, she simply stared at it, her mind blank and her expression emotionless.

Then with another hard jolt that shook her to the very core, all of her previous fears came crashing down upon her once again.

And to the white tomb, she whispered shakily:

"How could you leave him like this?"

* * *

><p>AN: So this is a monster of a chapter. I apologize for that, but there was just so much that needed to be written and it felt strange to split it up into two seperate chapters. But anyway, for all of you who have suffered laboriously through year 6...It's over! Yay! Celebration! It's not too much longer now until we finally get into the new AU-ish material. And by AU-ish, I just mean it doesn't really follow canon. As for this chapter, I know that it's extremely packed with material and quite extensive and I hope that didn't turn anyone off...You guys probably can't even imagine how long it took me to write, rewrite, and edit this. In general my writing process usually takes at least five hours if I were to sit straight through. I'm really nit-picky like that...So, if you ever wonder why it takes so long for me to update, it's not only because I'm too lazy!

All that aside, I thank you for reading my story as always and I really really hope you liked this chapter. Feedback would be especially adored for this one! Thank you again :)


	28. Chapter 28

_It was a strange time. It all seems like one giant blur to me. I can remember certain moments, big moments. But everything else...it's just a blur. All I can remember is how I felt. I was afraid, I was uncertain, I was depressed, I was lonely. The feelings are my memories. I can remember the rare moments when I felt joy. Or the times when I felt utterly hopeless. I can remember the feelings._

_Yes, it was a strange time. _

* * *

><p>Hermione slammed the book shut with a sigh of frustration.<p>

"I can't do this," she whispered, letting her head fall into her hands.

She'd been through every possible option in her mind, thinking and rethinking it through. There was no other way. Absolutely no other way.

Getting up from her chair, she walked over to the bookshelf and took the lone picture frame into her hands, staring at it for several seconds.

"I'm sorry," she said finally, looking into her parent's faces. "I'm so sorry."

She'd never felt more guilty in her entire life. And it was so utterly painful. How could she do it? How could she look into their eyes? Their eyes that were so filled with love. Eyes that trusted her and knew her better than anyone.

There was a fearful knot in the pit of her stomach that had been growing for the past couple of days. And it twisted with immense discomfort every time she contemplated all that could go wrong.

What if she couldn't bring them back? What if she couldn't reverse the charm? What if she lost them forever? What then? _What then?_

Closing her eyes, she placed the photograph on top of her heart and took a deep breath in.

She had to do it. It was the only way she could be certain they were safe. And right now, their safety meant more than her guilt and fear. It meant more than the ache inside her chest and the love inside her heart. It meant more than the comfort of her mother's scent and the warmth of her father's embrace.

It meant more than seventeen years worth of memories.

After today, she could be alone forever. There was no way of knowing...all she could do was hope.

Hermione sat there for some time crying silent tears, but in the end she found small comfort in the fact that no matter what happened, they would remain alive. Voldemort wouldn't get to them.

That thought alone empowered her. It filled her up and gave her the strength she so desperately needed.

_They'll be alive. They'll be alive. And I _will_ bring them back home. _

She placed the photograph deep within the confines of her bag, along with any and every book she might possibly need. Taking one final glance around the room, she searched for anything of value to pack with her.

Her eyes rested on the familiar snow globe on her shelf and just like that, tears started spilling rapidly down her cheeks again.

She walked over to it slowly, and held it in her hands, thinking of all the times this small object had brought her comfort.

Her mind travelled back to the last conversation she and her mother had during the winter holiday.

'_I want to know that it will always be here waiting for me. That it'll always be home.'_

"And it will be," Hermione stated determinedly. "I _will_ come back for you."

And with that, she placed the globe back on the shelf, before taking one last look around and exiting the room behind her.

Her parents were downstairs in the sitting room.

She could just make out the gentle hum of the television mixed in with pleasant midday conversation.

Her mother was pouring tea.

Her father was reading the paper.

Everything was as it should be.

As Hermione stood there in the shadows of the corridor, she could feel her heart beating madly inside her chest. She swore it might explode if she deliberated one moment longer.

So, trying desperately not to think of all that might go wrong, Hermione shakily brought her wand up, aiming directly at her parents' backs.

And with an uncomfortable feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach, she whispered the incantation.

* * *

><p>She waited.<p>

Alone in the empty house, she waited.

Her parents were long gone now. They were gone and they were safe. And with them, they took a piece of her heart.

Her head shot up at the sound of a loud c_rack_ in the back garden. She knew someone from the Order was coming to fetch her, she just didn't expect it to be so soon.

Wiping the tears quickly from her face, she walked over to the window, pulled the curtains back hesitantly and took a peak outside. She couldn't spot anyone at first, but then after a moment Mr. Weasley's Disillusionment Charm lifted.

"Hello, Hermione," he greeted her as she opened the door for him.

"Mr. Weasley," she smiled.

"What was the first Christmas present I ever received from you?"

"Batteries. Where did you meet my parents?" Hermione asked, feeling a slight pang in her chest.

"Flourish and Blotts," Mr. Weasley answered, confidently.

"Correct."

"Excellent! Shall we?" Mr. Weasley asked, proffering his arm to her. "I know you've passed your apparition test already, but I'd be much more content knowing you were with me."

"No problem," Hermione assured him. She took his arm, but not before turning to look back one more time at the house behind her.

Mr. Weasley, sensing her apprehension, squeezed her shoulder gently. "It's not goodbye…It's see you later."

Hermione looked up at him, eyes glistening, and nodded.

And together, they apparated to the Burrow.

* * *

><p>"He's not going to let us do it."<p>

"He doesn't have much a choice, Hermione," Lupin said, frowning. "Moody believes it's the only way."

"And when Moody wants something done, you'd best believe it's going to get done," Bill stated.

Hermione sighed, looking around at the table of witches and wizards in front of her. Order Headquarters had been temporarily moved to the Burrow, and as she and Ron were of age, they were allowed to attend meetings.

"All the imposters will be safe. The Death Eaters know they can't kill Harry, and they'll be in serious trouble if they do. It's the people flying with the imposters that will be in the greatest danger, but we're all fully prepared to take that risk." Bill declared.

"And this is all assuming the worst case scenario, of course," Lupin added. "We have no reason to doubt our sources. Voldemort and the Death Eaters remain ignorant of our plan."

Hermione nodded solemnly along with everyone else. She just couldn't believe how much had changed in such a short span of time. It felt like everything was moving too fast. And here they all were, discussing Harry's fate as if it were a matter of the weather.

She glanced over at Ron who had remained silent for most of the meeting. He looked about the same way she felt: nervous, fearful, and tense. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that out of everyone seated there at the table, she and Ron, alone, knew exactly what it would take to defeat Voldemort.

And they couldn't share that information with anyone.

"Be prepared to depart this evening," stated Lupin in a clear voice, rising from his chair. "So, if there are no more questions..."

There was silence around the table, and soon all the non-Weasley Order members said their farewells and left the small kitchen.

No one said anything for a moment until Mrs. Weasley stood up abruptly muttering something about starting dinner.

Hermione took real pity on the woman. Nearly her entire family was about to risk their lives tonight, and she silently prayed along with everyone else that there would be no casualties.

As everyone else got up to leave the kitchen table, she and Ron made their way upstairs to fill Ginny in on all that would transpire that evening.

Hermione knocked lightly on the door.

"Is it safe for me to come out now?" Ginny asked sardonically, poking her head through the doorway.

Not waiting for an answer, she let the both of them in.

"So? What's the plan?" Ginny asked, taking a seat on the ground.

Hermione and Ron followed suit and broke out into explanation of the meeting's events. When they were finished, Ginny had a bewildered expression plastered across her face.

"That sounds...complicated," she said. "Are you sure Harry's even going to go through with this? I mean...seven of him running around..."

"Mad-eye reckons it's the best plan we've got," Ron shrugged.

Ginny sighed. "I just can't wait until Harry's here and safe."

Ron cleared his throat slightly before addressing Ginny. "What ever happened between the two of you, anyway?" he asked uncertainly.

Hermione stared at Ginny.

The redhead looked away for a moment. "We broke up," she confirmed. "Well...he broke up with me."

"Hey," Ron said softly, "He's...he's got some things he has to deal with right now. But you know he cares about you, Gin."

Both girls looked at Ron for a moment, slightly taken aback. This softer, more sensitive side of him was something they had rarely ever witnessed before. Perhaps he really was maturing, Hermione pondered.

"Thanks, Ron," Ginny replied, bemused. Then all of a sudden she snapped her head back up to look at him. "Hold on! You've been reading that book, haven't you?"

"_Book?_" Hermione asked surprised, looking over at Ron. "What book?"

Ron suddenly turned a bright shade of red. "Er...erm...it's..."

Ginny snorted before turning to Hermione. "Fred and George gave it to him," she explained, rolling her eyes. "It's called: _Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches._"

Ron threw Ginny a murderous look, but she merely smiled back.

Hermione suddenly felt slightly uncomfortable.

_Why would he want to read a book like that? _

_Ooh, tough one_, her mind bit back, sarcastically.

_No...it can't be because of...no ,you're wrong. _

_Whatever you say._

She quickly buried these thoughts in the back of her mind, where she hoped she wouldn't have to extract them again.

* * *

><p>"Everyone ready?" growled Moody.<p>

Hermione gripped the invisible Thestral tighter for good measure, and nodded along with everyone else. She was secretly quite relieved that she didn't have to ride a broomstick for the long journey they were about to embark on. Flying was never one of her strong suits. And despite the fact that she couldn't see the Thestral beneath her, it still felt safer than a thin piece of wood.

The fear of plummeting to her death finally wore off after about the first half hour of flying, but it did nothing to loosen the strong hold she still had on the creature's mane. And after another half hour, her knuckles were starting to grow quite sore.

Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, they started their descent.

Once they landed in the back garden of number 4 Privet Drive, Hermione could feel her Disillusionment Charm start to wear off. Hopping off her Thestral carefully, she'd never been happier for her feet to meet the ground.

Taking in her surroundings, she saw the back door being quickly wrenched open as Harry hurtled into their midst.

Hermione couldn't remember ever being more delighted to see him. Perhaps it was because she hadn't seen him in nearly a month. Or maybe because they were one step closer to bringing him to the safety of the Burrow. Or it could have just been the mere fact his smile seemed to light up the darkened atmosphere around them. Whatever the reason, Hermione immediately ran and flung her arms around his neck.

Merlin, she'd missed him.

"All righ', Harry? Ready fer the off?" Hagrid said, as Hermione finally let go.

"Definitely," said Harry, beaming around at them all. "But I wasn't expecting this many of you!"

Hermione and Ron exchanged a quick look.

"No!" Harry said loudly, when Mad-Eye explained the plan to him. "No way!"

"I told them you'd take it like this," said Hermione, with a look of complacency.

"If you think I'm going to let six people risk their lives—!"

"—because it's the first time for all of us," said Ron.

"This is different. Pretending to be me—"

"Well, none of us really fancy it, Harry," said Fred earnestly. "Imagine if something went wrong and we were stuck as specky, scrawny gits forever."

Hermione laughed quietly at this, but quickly sobered up upon seeing the look on Harry's face.

In the end, though, he was left with no choice but to cooperate. She was fairly certain Moody would have simply ripped the hairs off Harry's head, himself, if it had to come to that.

With all their eyes upon him, Harry reached up to the top of his head, grabbed a hank of hair, and pulled. When he dropped the hairs into the mudlike liquid, the potion began to froth and smoke, then, all at once, it turned a clear, bright gold.

"Ooh, you look much tastier than Crabbe and Goyle, Harry," said Hermione.

_Oh Merlin...did I really just say that? _

She immediately felt her cheeks burn as Harry looked at her, and she quickly amended her statement. "Oh, you know what I mean—Goyle's potion looked like bogies."

_I should probably just shut up now._

Hermione had to admit, of all the strange things she had gone through in her life, this was by far one of the strangest.

Transforming into the body of the boy you fancy...well, it was just the slightest bit unnerving.

Okay, it was _extremely_ unnerving.

Almost by reflex, Hermione pushed her hair out of her eyes, only to remember that it wasn't her hair. It was Harry's hair.

Harry's hair.

_Oh my God...I just touched Harry's hair. _

She hesitantly brought her hand up to her head again, before immediately bringing it back down.

_Stop it. Now._

_But it's so soft!_

_No. _

_Just one more time? _

_Absolutely not. _

Hermione folded her arms so as not to give into the temptation. Biting her lip, she took in the scene around her.

_WAIT, THAT'S NOT MY LIP. _

_I'm biting Harry's lip..._

_Oh my God, stop. Stop!_

Hermione wanted to groan aloud in frustration. This was just too bizarre! In the end she let her arms hang loosely to her side, being very careful not to come into contact with any part of Harry's body.

_Because, you know, that makes plenty of sense, _Hermione thought, sarcastically.

She was finally able to relax a bit more once they had all taken off with their respective partners. Now, all she focused on was the journey ahead of her.

They had been travelling undisturbed for quite some time when she saw them. Up to five cloaked figures flying in their direction. Kingsley immediately spotted them as well.

"Stay close to me!" he exclaimed in his deep voice.

Hermione's heart was pounding in her ears. How did they find out? Could there really be a traitor among the Order?

She could see fury in Kingsley's eyes, but he maintained his composure, and without a second's thought he started firing at the oncoming Death Eaters.

"Stick to defensive spells!" he shouted at her. "I'll take care of them, just protect yourself!"

Hermione nodded obediently, and shot a quick _Protego_ as one of the Death Eater's spells just nearly missed her. Again and again she put up a shield around her, ducking every which way from the oncoming attacks. Kingsley had quickly taken care of three of them, but the other two were still putting up a strong fight.

Beads of sweat were forming on her brow, and she wiped them away quickly. Her heart nearly leapt into her throat as she almost lost her balance on the creature beneath her, but she quickly regained her grip.

Looking back up, though, she nearly forgot how to breathe.

There he was.

Voldemort, himself.

And she could have sworn he looked straight into her eyes, into her very soul.

And in that moment, Hermione didn't know how she was going to survive. She would die. She would die right here with Kingsley.

She would die as Harry Potter.

Because that's what Voldemort wanted. He wanted Harry. And if that's what he wanted, that's what Hermione would give him.

She brought her wand down slowly, taking a deep breath in through her nose.

_Kill me. _

Closing her eyes, she waited for the impact.

_Kill me!_

What was he waiting for?

_KILL ME._

"WATCH IT!"

She opened her eyes to see Kingsley throw himself in front her, and shoot out a shield charm just as an unknown spell bounced off them.

Hermione looked up to see that Voldemort was gone. "Where did he go?" she yelled out.

"I don't know," Kingsley shouted back. He threw one last spell at the remaining Death Eater and it hit him square in the chest, making him fall off his broom and plunge to darkness beneath them.

Kingsley was out of breath as he turned back to Hermione. "We have to fly away from here as fast as we can. There could be more of them."

She nodded quickly, her eyes wide and her pulse racing. Just a moment ago she was about an inch from death. And now, she was flying to safety.

She just prayed that everyone else was doing the same.

* * *

><p>"I still can't believe Moody's gone," Hermione stated quietly, sitting on the floor of Ron's bedroom, and staring off into space.<p>

"I know, who would have thought Mad-Eye would be the first to go..." Ron trailed off.

This was the first time in almost a week that any of the trio had been able to hold a conversation for more than ten minutes. Mrs. Weasley had made it her apparent goal to separate the three of them in the hopes that she could cut into their planning and make them stay home longer. But this, of course, was to no avail.

Despite the fact that Harry was currently helping Mr. Weasley clean out the chicken coup.

"Shouldn't you be cleaning as well?" Hermione reminded Ron, indicating the messy room around them.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll get to it," Ron muttered, flipping through a magazine.

"Well I sure hope so. I'd hate to see the look on your mum's face when—"

She was cut off by the sound of the door opening.

Ron immediately threw the magazine aside. "I'm doing it, I'm doing—! Oh, it's you," said Ron in relief, as Harry entered the room.

He took a seat on the bed next to Ron's.

"We were just talking about Mad-Eye," Ron told Harry. "You know, I reckon he might still be alive."

Both Harry and Hermione looked at him as if he were mad while he attempted to defend himself.

"Well, all right, if you want him to be dead," said Ron grumpily.

"Of course we don't want him to be dead!" said Hermione, looking shocked. "It's dreadful that he's dead! But we're being realistic!"

"The Death Eaters probably tidied up after themselves, that's why no one's found him," said Ron wisely.

Hermione really didn't want to think about this right now. It just felt wrong to discuss it so close to the man's death.

"Yeah," said Harry. "Like Barty Crouch, turned into a bone and buried in Hagrid's front garden. They probably transfigured Moody and stuffed him—"

"Don't!" exclaimed Hermione, suddenly feeling nauseous. She felt tears forming in her eyes, and she hastily wiped them away.

Harry looked startled. "Oh no," he said, struggling to get up from the old camp bed. "Hermione, I wasn't trying to upset—"

But before Harry could make his way over to her, someone else had already reached her side.

Hermione looked up, somewhat surprised to see Ron in front of her. He placed his arm hesitantly over her shoulders and procured a handkerchief from his pocket.

"Oh...thanks, Ron...I'm sorry..." she said, blowing her nose and feeling slightly embarrassed.

But he continued to comfort her, making her feel extremely bewildered in the process.

She looked up at Harry and saw amusement dancing in his green eyes. But she didn't feel amused in the slightest.

She appreciated Ron's concern, she really did. But she just felt...weird. Why was he treating her this way? Why did he suddenly seem to care so much about her feelings?

_Because he fancies you._

And for once, Hermione didn't think she could provide an argument. Ron fancied her. Of that, she was now certain.

Her eyes flitted across the room to meet Harry's, and she felt her heart sink.

_But I love _you, her mind whispered, staring into the depth of his emerald eyes, and wishing hopelessly that he could somehow hear her thoughts.

* * *

><p>Time was moving by unnaturally quickly, it seemed. It was already a day before Harry's birthday and two days before the wedding. Harry had made it quite adamant that he intended to leave as soon as the wedding was over. However, they still hadn't the faintest idea of where they would go. And this made Hermione extremely uneasy.<p>

Mrs. Weasley had not given up hope on making them stay, and so continued to separate the trio if they so much as sat next to each other at the dinner table.

Hermione understood that the woman was just being protective, but she couldn't help but think that it was only causing them more trouble. Planning was of the essence.

A knock on Ginny's door interrupted Hermione's thoughts and she called for the person to enter.

Harry rushed in, closing the door quickly behind him.

"Thought I saw Mrs. Weasley," Harry said in answer to the questioning look on Hermione's face.

"How did you even escape? I thought she told you and Ron to de-gnome the garden?"

"Yeah, except we've already done it about five times this week. Gnomes tend to stay away after the third."

"Smart creatures," Hermione admitted. "So, where's Ron?"

"Intercepted by Fleur," Harry replied, simply. "What are you up to?"

Hermione was suddenly very conscious of the fact that she was alone with Harry for possibly the first time all summer.

She was also very conscious of the fact that he looked incredibly handsome casually leaning against Ginny's bedpost with his hands in his pockets. Yes, incredibly handsome, indeed.

Hermione cleared her throat, ridding these thoughts from her mind. "Erm...the usual. Just deciding what to bring with us."

"Oh," Harry said quietly, looking down at the ground for a moment. "Thank you, Hermione. I honestly don't know what I'd do without you."

Hermione smiled gently. "You don't have to thank me, Harry. I just want you to finally realize that you don't have to do this alone. We're here with you. It's our job as much as it is yours."

Harry nodded, mutely. But his eyes seemed to express the immense gratitude that he couldn't put into words.

"So," Hermione started, tearing her eyes away from him, "are you excited about your birthday?"

Harry chuckled softly, moving to sit down on the ground across from her. "Oh yeah, I'm practically bubbling over. Can't you tell?"

"Oh, come on. It's your seventeenth birthday! You should be excited," Hermione insisted.

"More relieved, really. I finally won't have to worry about Ministry officials coming after me because a house elf dropped a cake on someone's head or because I defended myself in a dark alley."

"Or because you blew up your aunt," Hermione added.

"You still haven't forgiven me for that, have you?" Harry said, raising an eyebrow.

"I just don't think it was a very responsible thing to do," Hermione said shrugging.

"Completely worth it though," he said, reminiscing with slight smile on his face.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I suppose I can't really have an opinion on the matter since I've never met her," she conceded.

"Consider yourself lucky," he said.

"Well, I'm finished sorting through the books, no thanks to you," Hermione announced, getting up from her seated position to stretch her legs. "I just need a few more things...Do you have underpants in the wash?"

Harry's eyes instantly grew wide. "Sorry?"

"Never mind I'll just ask Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said to herself. "But then again...she'll probably start interrogating me. I'll just go look myself."

"Wha—?" Harry began, standing up clumsily.

"Is something wrong, Harry?" Hermione asked, concerned, finally noticing his discomfort.

"May I ask what you need with my...my stuff?" Harry managed to say.

"Well, you're going to need a clean pair for the road," Hermione said, as if stating the obvious.

Looking a little red in the face, Harry clapped in hands together. "Right, er, I will get those. You...you can take care of...of your things."

"Sure," Hermione replied, unperturbed.

Harry was about to exit the room when Hermione stopped him.

"Harry?" she called.

"Yeah?" he said, turning around.

"Everyone wears underpants," she said, trying and failing to fight back a smile.

"Would you like me to get yours as well while I'm down there, then?" Harry asked, innocently.

Hermione felt her face heat up, and she seemed to choke on her words before finally uttering a 'touché' and closing the door on his grinning face.

"Prat," Hermione muttered to herself, leaning her back against the door.

The effect was slightly muddled, however, by the fact that she couldn't wipe the small smile off her face.

* * *

><p>"Ginny!"<p>

"What?"

Hermione removed the towel that had just been haphazardly thrown on her head. "You're lucky I haven't done my hair yet," she glared, throwing it back on the girl's bed.

But Ginny didn't seem to hear her. "Where in Merlin's _pants_ did my other heel go?" she demanded, throwing more stuff all over the room as she searched the ground.

"Oh for goodness sake!" Hermione exclaimed. "_Accio Ginny's heel!"_

Both girls looked around the room waiting for the item to appear, but nothing happened.

Then out of nowhere they heard a muffled "bloody hell!" from outside the doorway.

Hermione opened it up to peer into corridor, and saw Ron emerge from the loo with a gold heel whizzing just past his forehead.

"Thanks, Hermione!" Ginny said, catching it deftly in her hands.

"Ronald, for goodness sake, put a shirt on!" Mrs. Weasley yelled as she rushed past the three of them.

Ron turned a bright shade of red before darting back into the loo, while both girls returned to Ginny's bedroom, nearly getting run over by the twins in the process.

"We're doing pretty well for our first wedding, don't you think?" Ginny said, using her wand to curl her hair.

"Yeah..." Hermione commented meekly.

"I mean, no one's been injured yet. That's always an accomplishment..."

"Ginny, should you be using your wand for that?" Hermione said suddenly, noting the girl's use of underage magic.

"Oh God!" Ginny said, putting her wand down dramatically. "What's the Ministry going to think when they detect the use of magic in a pureblood wizard home?"

Hermione wasn't amused. "I'm just saying. It _is_ illegal."

"I think I can live with that on my conscience. Would you like me to do your hair?"

Just then the door of the room swung open and Fred marched inside.

"Oh, come on in and make yourself at home," Ginny said sarcastically.

"Mum wants the seating charts, Gin Gin," Fred stated.

"Why the bloody hell would I have them?"

"She said they were with you last."

"What would I want with seating charts?" she exclaimed.

"So they're not with you?"

"No!"

And with that Fred marched back outside.

"I'll do my own hair by the way, thanks," Hermione said, in answer to Ginny's previous question.

"Suit yourself," the redhead shrugged.

"Have either of you seen Harry?"

Both girls turned their heads simultaneously to see Ron slipping his head through the doorway.

"Gee, I'm sure glad I didn't just have _my shirt off_ or anything," Ginny stated, annoyed.

Ron closed the door in front of him momentarily. Then proceeded to knock.

"Come in," Ginny called.

"Have either of you seen Harry?"

"No," both girls shouted in unison.

"Okay, finished," Ginny said, smiling. She turned around to face Hermione. "How do I look?"

"Um perfect!" Hermione said in awe. "Your hair looks beautiful, Ginny! All of you looks beautiful!"

Ginny laughed. "I could say the same for you. Well...not the hair part...we still need to work on that."

"Maybe I will take you up on that offer, after all," Hermione said uncertainly.

Before Ginny could express her delight, the bedroom door opened for a third time.

"Does anyone in this house knock?!" Ginny yelled, whipping her head around.

"Sorry, dear," Mrs. Weasley said. "I was just wondering where you put the seating charts."

Finally, after what Ginny proclaimed to be a successful morning ("Only one broken bone!"), the Weasleys, Delacours, Harry and Hermione, all lined up to greet the guests as they arrived and show them to their seats.

It was the first wedding Hermione had ever been to, muggle or magical, and for this, she was quite excited.

Fleur looked extraordinarily beautiful as she walked down the aisle, her smile radiating a warmth that seemed to spread out amongst the crowd of guests.

Hermione truly felt guilty for misjudging Fleur all those months ago. It surprised her somewhat. She was never one to make quick judgements, and yet she had completely condemned the girl from the start.

And why? All because of her immature jealousy. All because of her pathetic insecurities. Hermione truly felt ashamed, and she vowed to treat the girl with the respect that she had deserved from the start.

As Bill and Fleur began their first dance, all eyes were set upon them. Well, almost all eyes. Hermione could feel someone's stare on her and she turned her head to see Ron gazing at her intently.

"What are you staring at?" Hermione asked, feeling slightly unnerved.

She noticed him visibly gulp, then take a deep breath in. "You look really nice tonight, Hermione," he said.

She didn't really know how to respond to this. She didn't even know how she felt about it, to be honest. It was the same strange feeling she'd received when he'd comforted her. She appreciated it, yes. But it just didn't feel...right.

"Thanks Ron," she responded. "You look nice, too."

Turning away from him, she sighed heavily. She sincerely hoped that he didn't actually fancy her. She knew all too well what it felt like to have feelings for someone who didn't return them. It was painful. Extremely painful. And she really didn't want Ron to go through that.

For the rest of the night, Hermione kept her eye on both Harry and Ron, in case they were in need of a quick escape. The former was proving more difficult since she kept forgetting which redhead Harry was disguised as among the sea of redheads around them. However, she soon spotted him talking with an older man and Ron's Aunt Muriel.

After about a full hour of straight dancing, Hermione felt as if she could walk no longer, and collapsed onto the nearest chair in front of her. She was a little ways away from Harry who was still conversing with the odd pair.

She wondered what they could be discussing but figured he would tell her later if it was anything of importance. So she took to staring at him for a moment, and marvelled at the fact that even disguised as a freckly redhead, he still had the ability to make her heart beat quicker.

Something in the way he held himself, or maybe the way he would talk with his entire body, or perhaps it was the way he would stare so intently at a person when they were speaking to him, as if every word they were saying was of the utmost importance. It was so clearly Harry that she was surprised the entire room didn't spot him instantly.

_Maybe no one else studies his every move like you do. _

Hermione let out a humorous sniff. "Yeah...maybe," she said to herself, quietly.

She was just about to walk over to him, but at that moment, something large and silver came falling through the canopy over the dance floor. The Patronus's mouth opened wide and it spoke in the loud, deep, slow voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"_The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."_

Hermione froze for a split second as her heart jumped into her throat. Then without another moment's deliberation, she sped towards Harry and both of them threw themselves into the panicking crowd, searching frantically for Ron.

This was it.

This was war.

* * *

><p>AN: I'm really, really, incredibly sorry about the long wait! Life just gets in the way sometimes. I hope that I still have readers somewhere out there and I hope that you'll enjoy this chapter! As always, feel free to leave any questions, comments, criticisms, or suggestions. Have an excellent day, my friends :)


	29. Chapter 29

_I don't think Harry ever realized the effect he had on people. Even at the young age of seventeen. He had this way of making you feel safe, of giving you hope. Maybe it was because we all knew he would do absolutely anything on this earth to protect us. _

_He wasn't exceptionally gifted with magical talent. He didn't intimidate with physical strength. He was small, he was awkward, and he wore glasses. _

_And yet, somehow...he was our hero. _

_We trusted him and believed in him and we would have followed him to the ends of the earth. Because Harry was brave, he was compassionate. He was solid like a rock. He was honest and humble. _

_But more than anything, Harry was a force of nature. _

_He always has been. _

* * *

><p>Hermione opened her eyes.<p>

She was met with the sight of a dark, grey cobwebbed ceiling above her that left her momentarily confused. Her brain was still foggy from sleep and she was finding it difficult to remember what day it was.

Then out of nowhere, a snore erupted from somewhere below. She sat up quickly and noticed Ron's sleeping figure on the ground. And just like that, all of yesterday's events came crashing before her eyes.

They were in Grimmauld Place, and their mission had begun.

Hermione tried to wrap her head around this, but it all felt so surreal.

Brushing her hands through her tangled hair and wiping the sleep off her face, she let her feet fall to the cold ground. She stood up and stretched to step over Ron's sleeping body, but paused abruptly when her eyes settled on the vacant spot on the ground next to him.

_Where's Harry?_

She quickly scanned the room around them, but he was nowhere in sight.

_Okay, calm down. He's got to be here somewhere._

She made her way out into the first floor landing, and called his name. But there was no response. She then rushed down the stairs and checked the kitchen, the sitting room, the library, and several bedrooms but he was nowhere in sight.

Hermione was beginning to worry now as she hurried back to the drawing room to wake Ron up. What if Harry left? What if he was once again under the foolish illusion that he should embark on this mission alone?

"Ron! _Ron!_ Wake up!" she said, shaking him.

He rolled over lazily, trying to cover his face with his sleeping bag.

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed again, shoving him harder.

He whined, opening his eyes tiredly. "What do you want?" he mumbled.

"I can't find Harry!" she stated loudly.

Ron looked momentarily confused as he sat up and squinted at her. "What do you mean you can't find Harry?"

"I mean that he wasn't in here when I woke up, and I've been trying to call his name, but no one's answering," she said, starting to get frustrated.

"Well have you checked everywhere?" he asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"No, not everywhere. But that's why I need your help. This place is massive. Ron...what if he left?" Hermione said, finally voicing her worries aloud.

"Hermione," Ron started, attempting to calm her. "He's not dim. He knows he can't do this Horcrux thing alone. We'll split up and look for him, okay? You go upstairs, I'll go down."

Hermione nodded, racing up the steps to the second floor landing. Looking around, she saw several more rooms.

"Are all of these really necessary?" she said to herself, as she opened yet another vacant bedroom.

The hall was quite long, so she tried calling his name again.

"Harry? Harry! _Harry!"_ she finally cried out desperately.

"I'm here!" a voice called suddenly. "What's happened?"

Feeling a wave of relief wash over her, Hermione burst through the door she'd heard his voice coming from, and saw him standing there with a piece of parchment in his hand and an anxious look on his face.

"We woke up and didn't know where you were!" she said breathlessly. Turning around, she shouted down the stairs to Ron that she'd found him.

Ron's annoyed voice echoed distantly from several floors below. "Good! Tell him from me he's a git!"

"Harry, don't just disappear, please, we were terrified! Why did you come up here anyway?" she asked, taking in the ransacked room around her.

"Look what I've just found."

He handed her the parchment that he'd been holding and she looked at him curiously before accepting it. It was a letter Harry's mum had written to Sirius. Hermione suddenly realized they were standing in Sirius's old bedroom.

As she began reading it, she felt an odd tingling sensation inside of her that was a mix of both happiness and sorrow. She could only imagine what Harry must have felt reading his mother's words for the first time.

Hermione looked up at him after she was finished and found that he had been staring intently at her.

She smiled kindly back at him. "She sounded really happy," Hermione said softly.

Harry breathed in slowly and nodded.

"And Harry, look!" Hermione gestured suddenly. "She makes her 'g's the same way you do."

Harry gave her small half-smile. "Yeah I know. I'm surprised you even noticed," he admitted.

Hermione shrugged. "I guess I'm just weirdly observant."

"And thank Merlin for that," Harry stated. "Oh, and there's this too."

Digging into his pocket, he extracted what looked like a torn photograph and handed it to her.

Hermione immediately smiled widely. It was the picture of Harry on his first broomstick that Lily had mentioned in her letter. The black-haired baby was zooming in and out, laughing merrily while a pair of legs that must have belonged to James Potter chased after him.

Hermione knew that this simple letter and photograph had meant the world to Harry. And she was incredibly touched that he had shared them with her. After all, he rarely shared anything even remotely intimate with anyone.

She wondered briefly how different Harry would have been if his parents had lived. Perhaps he would have been more open, more trusting, more secure.

More _happy._

Looking back down at the photograph one more time, Hermione silently prayed that one day, Harry would be able to laugh like that again.

* * *

><p>"Okay, let's go over it again."<p>

Ron groaned loudly. "Hermione, we've been through the plan _sixteen times_. Trust me, I've counted."

"Yes, and nearly every time we've come up with another thing that could go wrong," Hermione responded, heatedly. "We have to think of every possible scenario."

"Yeah because Harry's robes suddenly catching fire is a possible scenario," Ron retorted, sarcastically.

"We don't know the full effects of a Horcrux!" Hermione said defensively.

"Look," Ron said, laying his hands down on the table, "we've been planning this for nearly a month now. There's nothing more we can do, so I say we throw caution to the wind and just hope for the best."

Hermione nearly choked on her own air. "Throw caution to the wind?" she demanded. "Oh yes, what a _fantastic _idea, Ronald. Do you hear that, Harry? Let's just 'throw caution to the wind'!"

"Oh, for the love of—!"

"Stop it, both of you!" Harry yelled.

He ran his hands through his hair in frustration, and then exhaled loudly before continuing.

"We're not going to get anywhere fighting like this. Yes, Hermione, we should think through every possible scenario. But Ron's got a point, too. There's no way of knowing how tomorrow's going to play out, and we have to be prepared to think on our feet. So why don't we just go through the plan one more time and then call it a night."

But as it turned out, they hadn't thought of every possible scenario.

Hermione could have hit herself.

Somehow, in a whole month of planning, none of them had even considered the possibility of being forced into the duties of their Ministry counterparts.

As a result, Hermione now found herself seated beside Umbridge in a large courtroom where she was witnessing muggleborn after muggleborn being sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban prison. And there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

She tried desperately to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill from her eyes as she watched countless innocent lives begging on their knees for mercy. Begging for someone, anyone to understand that they had committed no crime. They had done no wrong.

Hermione felt sick.

These people, sitting beside her...Umbridge, Yaxley...they couldn't be human. How could someone just sit there and watch? Hermione was sure she would vomit at any moment, and yet there they were, completely indifferent to the scene before them.

No...not even indifferent. They were _pleased_.

Hermione grimaced as yet another scream rang throughout the large courtroom.

"Please! Please, don't do this!" the young girl pleaded. She couldn't have been more than twenty.

"Oh God...I was going to be _married_!" she choked out, burying her head in her hands and sobbing uncontrollably. "You're monsters, you are. MONSTERS!"

Umbridge tutted loudly, shaking her head in disapproval. "I'm afraid that kind of language will earn you a kiss from the Dementors, my dear."

Hermione's heart nearly stopped. "W-what?" she choked out.

Umbridge turned to look at her. "Did you say something, Mafalda?" she asked.

Hermione swallowed painfully. "Er—I—I was just...do you really think that's necessary, Dolores?" she said, somewhat shakily.

Umbridge sighed. "Now, now, Mafalda. How many times do we have to go through this? You need to trust my judgement."

"But—"

"Take her away," Umbridge ordered to the guards.

Hermione felt herself go into a sort of shock as she watched them drag the young girl away to a fate worse than death.

She could barely even register what was happening around her for sometime afterwards.

"I'm behind you," whispered a voice, suddenly in her ear.

Hermione instantly jumped so violently in her seat, she nearly overturned the bottle of ink with which she was supposed to be recording the interview. Neither Umbridge nor Yaxley had noticed, however, as they were too busy interrogating a woman by the name of Mrs. Cattermole.

_Harry. That was Harry's voice. Harry's here!_

Somehow, his presence empowered her. It gave her hope. Harry would save them. He would save Mrs. Cattermole. He would save the young witch who was to be administered the Dementor's Kiss. And he would save all the men and women waiting fearfully outside. She knew it and believed it with all her heart.

A glint of gold suddenly caught Hermione's eye, and she turned her head just a fraction to see Umbridge lean over the barrier, a golden locket around her neck swinging forward as well.

Hermione gasped. It was the horcrux. Umbridge was wearing the horcrux around her neck.

She couldn't be sure if Harry had seen it. So, with her heart pounding frantically, she said in a loud voice, "That's—that's pretty, Dolores."

"What?" snapped Umbridge, glancing down. "Oh yes—an old family heirloom. The _S_ stands for Selwyn...I am related to the Selwyns...Indeed, there are few pure-blood families to whom I am not related."

This was all it took to unleash Harry's anger. A flash of red light instantly hit Umbridge in the back and she crumpled, hitting her head on the edge of the balustrade.

Before Yaxley could comprehend what had just happened, Harry struck him as well.

However, with Umbridge stunned, her Patronus quickly dissipated. Hermione watched in terror as the hundreds of Dementors moved out of their corners and glided down towards Mrs. Cattermole. Hermione knew there was no way she could cast her own Patronus quick enough to save her.

"Harry, Mrs. Cattermole!" she shouted.

Harry whipped around, throwing off his Invisibility Cloak. His eyes widened in horror as he took in the scene, as well.

"_EXPECTO PATRONUM!" _

The silver stag soared from the tip of Harry's wand and leaped towards the Dementors, which fell back and melted into the dark shadows again. The stag's light, more powerful and more warming than Umbridge's Patronus, filled the whole dungeon as it cantered around and around the room.

"Get the Horcrux," Harry told Hermione, as he took off to release Mrs. Cattermole from her chains.

Hermione ran over to Umbridge's crumpled form. Not caring to be gentle, she pushed the woman's head forward, and quickly undid the clasp.

She was about to run off when a sudden thought struck her. "She can't know it's gone..." Hermione whispered to herself.

Staring at the locket, she concentrated hard as she cast the charm.

"There...that should fool her..." Hermione said, placing the duplicate locket around Umbridge's fat neck.

She then ran to meet Harry who had just released Mrs. Cattermole.

"Harry, how are we going to get out of here with all those Dementors outside the door?" Hermione asked.

"Patronuses," he replied. "As many as we can muster; do yours, Hermione."

Hermione gulped, staring ahead. The last time Harry needed her to fight off Dementors, she had let him down miserably. He was left to pick up the pieces. He was left to save her, Sirius and himself.

But this time, there was a hall filled with people who needed saving and Harry couldn't do it all alone again. He needed her.

"_Expec—Expecto Patronum," _said Hermione. Nothing happened.

"It's the only spell she ever has trouble with," she heard Harry tell Mrs. Cattermole. "Bit unfortunate, really...Come on, Hermione..."

_Okay, focus. Harry needs your help! Focus, Hermione, focus!_

_Happy thought, happy thought. Think of what makes you happy. Harry makes you happy. Think of Harry. Think of Harry!_

"_Expecto Patronum!"_

A silver otter burst from the end of Hermione's wand and swam gracefully through the air to join the stag. She let out a breath of relief, and followed Harry as he led her and Mrs. Cattermole to the door. Once they reached the lift with the large group of muggleborns in tow, they reunited with Ron.

But everything from that moment was like a whirlwind. All Hermione could recall was the feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach as she witnessed the fireplaces in the Atrium being rapidly sealed off.

This was it. They were done for. There was no way out.

"Harry!" Hermione cried desperately. "What are we going to do?"

"STOP!" Harry thundered, his voice echoing throughout the Atrium.

There was instant silence in the hall as nearly every head turned to look at him.

"This lot need to leave before you seal the exits," he said, gesturing to the group of muggleborns beside him.

Hermione was slightly taken aback as she stood there listening to Harry argue with one of the wizards sealing the exits. She had never before heard such authority in his voice, and for a moment, she nearly forgot it was him speaking.

"Seal the exit! SEAL IT!"

Hermione whipped her head around and saw Yaxley burst through the lift and run towards them. But he was too late for the muggleborns. Nearly all of them had already escaped, with only Mrs. Cattermole left behind.

Ron, still disguised as her husband, quickly grabbed her, pulled her into a still-open fireplace, and disappeared.

"Come on!" Harry shouted to Hermione, seizing her hand.

The two of them sprinted towards the only remaining unsealed fireplace and jumped in together as Yaxley's curse just skimmed Harry's head.

As they shot out of the toilet and into the cubicle of the Ministry entrance, Harry grabbed onto her hand again, quickly found Ron, and together the three of them apparated away.

However, as they were being pulled through the invisible tube of apparition, Hermione suddenly felt a forceful hand grab onto her elbow. All around her everything was a blur except for the unfamiliar arm and Harry's hand that was quickly slipping out of reach. She tried desperately to fight the former off, but the more she fought, the farther her hand slipped out of Harry's grip.

She saw the door of number twelve, Grimmauld Place materializing before her eyes and knew that within a second the stranger holding on to her would see it as well. The Fidelius Charm's protection would be broken. They would no longer be safe there.

Hermione knew she had to steer her, Harry, and Ron away from there as fast as she could. So with a sudden bout of strength, she forced her arm back and cast the most powerful Revulsion Jinx she could muster. Yaxley's face appeared for the briefest of moments before being pulled away by the invisible force of the jinx. And the very next moment, Harry, Ron, and Hermione landed on the damp forest floor.

Hermione's eyes snapped open.

She looked over to her left, and what she saw made her heart stop.

"Oh my God," she whispered, standing up shakily on her feet.

Ron groaned in agony. His whole left side appeared to be drenched in blood.

Hermione stumbled over to him, taking his head in her hands. She tried breathing in deeply so as not to be sick, but her whole body was shaking like mad.

"What's happened to him?" Harry asked, running up to Ron's other side.

"Splinched," she replied, not able to form a properly coherent sentence.

Her vision was starting to blur with unshed tears, but she frantically blinked them away. Looking over Ron's body, the blood was wettest and darkest near his upper arm. She quickly tore open his shirt to get a better look, and saw that a chunk of flesh appeared to be missing, scooped cleanly away as though by a knife.

Hermione nearly gagged at the sight, and had to take in several deep breaths through her nose in order to keep herself together.

Ron let out another painful moan. He seemed to be flitting in and out of consciousness.

"Harry, quickly, in my bag, there's a small bottle labelled 'Essence of Dittany'—"

"Bag—right—"

Harry sped off to retrieve the bottle, as she remained by Ron's side trying desperately to soothe him.

"You're going to be okay," Hermione trembled, smoothing down his hair. "Shh, you're going to be okay, I promise."

But he only cried out louder, his whole body shivering madly.

"_Quickly!" _Hermione screamed out to Harry.

Harry sprinted towards her with the small bottle in hand.

"Unstopper it for me, Harry," Hermione directed. "My hands are shaking."

Harry wrenched the stopper off and handed it her. She took it and poured three drops of the potion onto the bleeding wound. Greenish smoke billowed upward and when it had cleared, the bleeding stopped. The wound now looked several days old; new skin stretched over what had just been open flesh.

Hermione let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, and fell back on her legs. She tried wiping her brow, but her hands were covered in Ron's blood.

"Wow," said Harry in awe. "How did he even get hurt?"

She proceeded to explain to him what had happened while they tried apparating away from the Ministry, including the fact that they could no longer return to Grimmauld Place.

It wasn't until Ron had awoken and the tent and protective charms were all in place, that Hermione was finally able to relax a bit.

"I-I should go make some tea," she announced, heading towards the kitchen.

In truth, Hermione just wanted to have a moment alone. She needed to think. She needed to_ breathe_.

Casting a quick silencing charm around her, she sat down on the kitchen floor, and rested her head on her knees. Scenes from earlier that day were replaying themselves in her mind. Her heart ached as she remembered the faces of the men and woman in the courtroom. Grown men and women...crying and screaming like helpless children.

It could have been her. She could have been chained to that chair today just like the rest of them. Perhaps she would have said something that caused her to be sentenced to a Dementor's Kiss. It would have been so easy...so easy for them to destroy her life.

Then there was Ron. She didn't recall ever being so terrified. It was easy to read about splinching, to see pictures. But to witness it firsthand...it was just absolutely terrifying. What if she hadn't thought to make that potion beforehand? Ron could have died...

Hermione felt a single tear roll down her cheek.

She knew this journey would be difficult. She knew they would be encountering all kinds of horrifying things. But it didn't matter. Knowing, preparing...none of it mattered. Because life would always stray from the plan, life would always be terrifying.

So she had to be strong.

Not just for Harry, but for herself, as well.

"Can you believe it?" Harry said later that evening, seated outside the tent as Ron dozed peacefully in his camp bed. "We broke into the Ministry..."

"Extremely haphazardly, may I add," Hermione said.

"Yeah but we succeeded. Wish I could say we all got out in one piece but..." Harry gestured inside toward Ron.

"That's not funny," she reprimanded him.

"Sorry," Harry replied, trying to hold back a grin. "You were pretty amazing back there, though. Ever thought of becoming a healer?"

"Been utilizing Ron's birthday present, have we?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow, and trying to ignore the fluttering feeling her heart was making.

Harry looked confused for a moment, but then comprehension seemed to dawn on his features as he let out a light chuckle. "Yeah, it's all in chapter five: 'Guidance for Her Future'."

"I thought that was more Chapter Three: 'Compliments'..." Hermione said.

"Well, either way, I've charmed you, haven't I?" Harry asked, taking a sip of his tea.

Hermione looked away from his penetrating green gaze a moment to hide the small smile on her face.

_Oh you have no idea..._

"Let's not let our heads get too large, Harry," she said, turning back to face him. "Oh, and for the record, no I've never thought about becoming a healer, and after today...I really don't think I'd ever want to."

"I don't blame you," Harry said, leaning his head back against the tent behind him, with one arm draped over his knee.

Hermione could tell the image of Ron's mangled body was haunting Harry as well, but of course, he'd probably never admit it aloud.

"Harry, Hermione?"

She looked up at the sound of Ron's voice drifting toward them from inside the tent.

"Why don't you go head inside," Harry suggested. "I'll stay out here and keep watch."

"We'll switch off, okay?" Hermione said, standing up. "And the same goes for the locket. I don't think any one of us should be wearing it for too long."

Harry nodded and bade her goodnight.

"Hey," Hermione said, walking over to Ron's bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've just been run over a herd of hippogriffs."

"So, better then?"

"What were you and Harry talking about outside?" Ron asked, frowning slightly.

Hermione shrugged. "A lot of things."

"Like...?" Ron prodded.

"I don't know, Ron," Hermione said, starting to get annoyed. "Everything that happened today. The ministry, you, the horcrux."

He nodded, seeming satisfied by this answer.

"So, is there anything to eat around here?" he asked, sitting up carefully. "I'm starved."

"About that...see, I thought we'd be returning to Grimmauld place after the Ministry, so I only packed the essentials..."

Ron stared at her. "Last time I checked, food was pretty essential, Hermione."

"Yes, I-I know, but..." she trailed off, feeling a slight pang in her chest for being so stupid. How could she have not packed food? It was the most obvious thing, and yet she had overlooked it.

"Here," she said, dejectedly. "I picked a few mushrooms earlier. Hopefully they can hold you over till tomorrow morning. And don't worry I made sure they weren't poisonous."

Ron eyed them warily, but seemed to decide it was better than sleeping on an empty stomach. "Thanks," he said, not sounding very grateful.

Hermione turned to walk away when she felt his arm stop her.

"What?" she asked.

"Listen, I...I just want to thank you...for this," he said, waving a hand over his sling. "I mean, you pretty much saved my life, didn't you?"

"It was nothing, Ron."

"No...it was definitely something. Seriously, you should become a healer, you know," he said, observing the sling she wrapped around his arm.

Hermione couldn't help but smile as she thought of her conversation with Harry earlier.

"What's so funny?" Ron asked, noticing the look on her face.

"Wha—? Oh nothing, just thinking of something. But thanks, Ron. I'll...take that into consideration."

He looked at her strangely as she wished him goodnight, but he thankfully didn't question her further.

Somehow she didn't think Ron would enjoy the idea of Harry charming her as much as she had.

* * *

><p>AN: So this is probably one of the fastest updates ever! It's a bit shorter than the past couple of chapters, but it covers a lot of important subjects, I think. I hope you guys enjoy it. Also, in response to one reviewer's question, this will _not_ be an unrequited love story. Harry will realize his feelings for Hermione eventually. It may take a bumpy road to get there, but we'll get there. So never fear. Man that would be just awful if poor Hermione spent the rest of her life pining over Harry...I would never be that cruel! But yeah, anyway, we just all have to be a little patient. Thanks again for reading, and as always feel free to leave some feedback!


	30. Chapter 30

_I'm not sure you can call that love. _

_After everything we went through the following year, my past feelings for Harry just seemed fickle in comparison to these new ones. _

_I don't think I had ever felt so strongly about another human being. And when I say 'feel strongly' I don't just mean attraction. Because real love is so much more than that. _

_I don't really think I can explain it. It's almost like...every emotion you normally feel is intensified a hundredfold. You feel happier, sadder, more fearful, more protective, stronger and weaker. All these feelings that you feel normally just grow when you're with that person. They grow and they grow and they continue growing. _

_Sometimes...I wonder if it's dangerous._

* * *

><p>There were days when everything seemed to be going just fine. They'd already found one horcrux, after all. And Hermione was filled with hope that the journey would continue on smoothly. They all were.<p>

But other days...most days... a thick cloud of gloom would settle upon the reclusive tent and fill each member with an unyielding mood of hopelessness.

They were cold, they were hungry, and they were running out of ideas.

The only bright spot of their days, it seemed, was the small moment of relief they each felt upon removing the locket from around their necks after a long day. It was like breathing in a lungful of air after being submerged in ice cold water.

Indeed, wearing the horcrux was a kind of emotional torture Hermione had never experienced. It seemed to feed upon all her fears and insecurities. It made her feel so incredibly alone, even with Harry and Ron sitting right beside her. And it filled her with an inexplicable sense of guilt. She would start to blame herself for everything that was going wrong, like she wasn't smart enough or practical enough or capable enough. Like everything was her fault.

It affected each of them differently, the horcrux.

When Hermione wore the locket, she would tend to sit quietly in a corner, alone, wallowing in her own thoughts.

When Harry wore the locket, he would become extremely irritable. The smallest things would set him off, and he'd rush out of the tent in a temper only to return when he'd finally cooled down.

But there was something different about Ron. Not only did the horcrux feed upon his fears and insecurities, it seemed to _thrive _upon them. Like there was a part of him that was buried deep inside that was suddenly unleashed when the locket was around his neck. He would turn insufferable, cold, and cruel. He would criticize everything, complain about everything.

When Ron wore the locket, he was unrecognizable.

"What are you doing?"

Hermione looked up to see Ron sit down across from her at the table.

"Reading," she said, simply.

"Anyone die while I was outside?" Ron said, gesturing toward the wireless that was currently emitting a soft hum of white noise.

Hermione looked up at him sharply. "Don't talk like that," she said seriously.

He crossed his arms and looked away. "Well, who knows? They could all be dead. While we're out here _camping_," he stated, spitting the last word out as if it were poison.

"Stop it," Hermione said abruptly, clenching her teeth.

"Why should I?" he retorted, turning his face to glare at her. "It's true! I don't know what's going on out there, I don't know if they're safe. Unfortunately my parents aren't vacationing in Australia at the moment—"

Hermione slammed her book shut, standing up so fast, her chair almost fell from underneath her."Go to hell," she said, giving him a cold, hard look.

She was just about to walk away, but Ron quickly got up to block her path.

"Move," she ordered.

"Hermione, wait—"

"I said, _move."_

"Look, I'm sorry, okay!" he said, holding up his hands. "I didn't mean it, Hermione, I swear I didn't mean it. It just...slipped out."

"Yeah, that seems to be happening a lot lately, doesn't it?" she stated, frostily.

"IT'S THIS GODDAMN LOCKET!" Ron suddenly shouted, causing Hermione to jump.

He removed it from his neck violently, throwing it to the ground.

"I am so s_ick and tired_ of wearing that thing," he said, gesturing to it as he spoke. "It drives me insane, Hermione."

"You act as if you're the only one who has to wear it!" she said, angrily. "It affects all of us, Ron."

"Well, hey, I sure wish we knew how to destroy the f—ing thing! Oh wait, that's right, Dumbledore forgot to mention that part!" Ron yelled.

"Look at you!" Hermione said in disgust. "You're not even wearing it and you're talking this way. What's gotten into you, Ron?"

"What's gotten into me? I dunno, maybe it's the fact that we're out here doing absolutely nothing. Or that we have to carry You-know-who's soul around our necks like it's some sort of keepsake. Or, hey, maybe it's the fact that our _leader_, Harry Potter, doesn't know what the bloody hell he's even doing!"

"Quiet, Ron!" Hermione said quickly, looking towards the opening of the tent.

"Afraid of hurting his feelings, are you?" he sneered.

"You're being completely unfair," she responded, heatedly. "Harry told us everything from the start. I thought you knew what you were getting yourself into!"

"Can you honestly tell me that you didn't think Harry would have some sort of idea where to start? Did you really think we would be wandering around aimlessly for weeks?"

"Well...no, but—"

"But nothing! Harry let us down. He let _you_ down, but you just can't admit it," Ron stated, pointing his finger at her in an accusatory manner.

"You're talking rubbish," Hermione said, pushing his arm aside. "Look, I admit that I'm a little disappointed in the way things are going, but I would never blame Harry for that. He's trying his best, Ron. We _both_ are. But unfortunately all _you_ seem to be doing is complaining."

Before Ron could respond, however, Harry walked into the tent causing them to abruptly cut off their conversation.

He looked at the both of them for a moment, before walking over to his bed and lying down.

Hermione suddenly felt extremely guilty. He probably suspected that she and Ron had been talking about him all along. And he wouldn't be completely wrong in that assumption either.

_Great. That's all Harry needs right now. To think his best friends have turned against him._

Hermione sighed to herself. "I suppose it's my turn to keep watch," she announced quietly, knowing that she might as well be talking to herself.

So with a heavy heart, she walked over to the locket on the ground, picked it up, and wordlessly placed it around her neck.

* * *

><p>The autumn months stretched out as Harry, Ron, and Hermione continued to move along the countryside. Their days were filled with nothing but the same mind-numbing tasks that were quickly becoming routine. Hermione stopped trying to keep track of time. What was the point when every day was just like the other?<p>

To her great displeasure, Ron continued having the same conversations with her when Harry was out of the room. It seemed like his goal these days was to discredit Harry in any way he could.

Hermione tried again and again to dispute the matter with him, but she was simply growing tired of it. There were times when she would give up all together and listen to his ranting in a stony silence.

The locket made her this way. It drained her of her energy. It made her hate everything around her. It made her hate Ron. It made her hate the way he talked to her, with his cruel and heartless words. The way he tried to provoke her. The way he always had to put Harry down, make Harry seem like the bad guy, blame Harry for everything that was going wrong. But more than anything, it made her hate the fact that somewhere deep inside of her...she was starting to resent Harry as well.

It was absurd, it was outrageous, it was absolutely ridiculous. But it was there.

After she would take the locket off, however, that feeling would dissipate. And in its place a most painful guilt would erupt inside of her.

_I just wish we could get some sort of clue. Something that will help us. Are we ever going to find answers? Are we ever going to end this? It honestly doesn't feel that way. Sometimes I wonder if Dumbledore really was mad... After all, only a mad man would set a task like this to three teenagers._

Hermione stared at the last sentence she had written with a grim sort of smile. Dumbledore believed they could do it. The three of them..._together_. Why? She had no idea. But perhaps one day she would find out.

As fate would have it, they did find some answers that day.

After overhearing the conversation between Ted Tonks, Dean Thomas, and a pair of goblins who had all incidentally wandered close to their wards, the trio were able to surmise that Ginny had led a break-in inside the Headmaster's office to steal the sword of Gryffindor.

Hermione could not for the life of her understand why Ginny would feel inclined to do such a thing. She instantly felt the fear overtake her as she began to contemplate all that Snape could have done to punish them.

However, an idea suddenly struck her.

"Ginny—the sword—" Harry uttered.

"I know!" Hermione said, lunging for her tiny beaded bag and letting her arm sink in all the way to the bottom until it made contact with a large picture frame.

"Er—Phineas? Phineas Nigellus?" she said uncertainly. "Professor Black? Please could we talk to you? Please?"

"'Please' always helps," said a cold, snide voice, and Phineas Nigellus slid into his portrait.

Hermione immediately shouted an '_obscuro' _which served in blindfolding the deceased headmaster. "I'm very sorry, Professor Black, but it's a necessary precaution," she said as he starting protesting wildly.

"We've got a couple of questions to ask you—about the sword of Gryffindor," Harry said at once.

Hermione couldn't remember the last time she had been this happy. After hearing that Ginny and the others were safe, they'd also discovered a critical piece of information as well.

"Harry!" Hermione cried.

"I know!" Harry shouted, unable to contain his excitement.

"The sword can destroy Horcruxes! Goblin-made blades imbibe only that which strengthen them—Harry, that sword's impregnated with basilisk venom!"

Hermione felt so utterly light. She could dance or shout or laugh. The world seemed full of every possibility at the moment. Absolutely nothing could bring her down today. Even the mushrooms currently stewing in the pot seemed to give off a less than terrible scent compared to usual.

"So, would he have hidden the sword well away from Hogsmeade, then?" Harry said. "What d'you reckon, Ron? Ron?"

They both looked at the spot Ron had stood not moments before.

"Oh, remembered me, have you?" he asked, lying in the shadow of a lower bunk, looking stony.

"What?" Harry said, confused.

Ron snorted. "You two carry on. Don't let me spoil your fun."

Harry looked to her for help, but Hermione was just as nonplussed as he was. All along Ron had been complaining about not having enough information. And now that they'd discovered something so vital, he was suddenly upset about it. It just didn't make any sense.

"Well you've obviously got a problem," said Harry. "Spit it out, will you?"

Ron swung his long legs off the bed and sat up. He looked mean, unlike himself. With an uncomfortable jolt, Hermione realized he was wearing the locket around his neck. She was suddenly afraid he would say or do something that would not be forgiven.

"All right, I'll spit it out. Don't expect me to skip up and down the tent because there's some other damn thing we've got to find. Just add it to the list of stuff you don't know."

Hermione stared between the two of them fearfully. Ron had never confronted Harry about his discontent before. He'd made it quite clear through his actions, yes, but he'd never actually verbalized anything to Harry's face. He typically reserved all of his complaints to her. And while she had always hated it, she would rather it be her than Harry, now.

"I don't know?" repeated Harry. "_I _don't know?"

"It's not like I'm having the time of my life here," said Ron. "You know, with my arm mangled and nothing to eat and freezing my backside off every night. I just hoped, you know, after we'd been running round a few weeks, we'd have achieved something."

Hermione listened to the words she'd been hearing for weeks now. The same words she'd learned to ignore. And yet, something about the situation, about the way Ron was looking at Harry and Harry was looking at Ron, made it seem like it was the first time she was hearing them. And they were piercing through her insides like a knife.

"Ron," Hermione, said, but in such a quiet voice she could barely be heard over the storm that was currently raging outside.

"I thought you knew what you'd signed up for," said Harry.

"We thought you knew what you were doing!" shouted Ron, standing up. "We thought Dumbledore had told you what to do, we thought you had a real plan!"

"Well, sorry to let you down," said Harry, his voice calm, but hollow. "I've been straight with you from the start, I told you everything Dumbledore told me. And in case you haven't noticed, we've found one Horcrux—"

"And we're about as near getting rid of it as we are to finding the rest of them—nowhere effing near, in other words!"

"Take off the locket, Ron," Hermione suddenly said. "Please take it off. You wouldn't be talking like this if you hadn't been wearing it all day."

"Yeah he would," said Harry, turning on her. "D'you think I haven't noticed the two of you whispering behind my back? D'you think I didn't guess you were thinking this stuff?"

Hermione looked at Harry, begging him with her eyes to understand. "Harry, we weren't—"

"Don't lie!" Ron hurled at her. "You said it too, you said you were disappointed, you said you'd thought he had a bit more to go on than—"

"I didn't say it like that—Harry, I didn't!" she cried, her eyes starting to well up with tears.

She hadn't meant it, she hadn't meant any of it! Not in the way Ron was letting on. She was disappointed in the situation, she wasn't disappointed in Harry!

_Then why do you resent him?_

_I don't! I swear I don't! It's the stupid horcrux...it makes me feel all these terrible things..._

_Do you really believe that? _

_Yes!_

_So what about Ron? Does he not mean anything he's saying, either?_

Hermione looked at her best friend, as if seeing him for the first time. Sure they always fought a lot, but there were more good moments than bad. So many more. She just couldn't understand why he was doing this. Why he was turning into this malicious person she couldn't even recognize. They were supposed to stick together, the three of them. They couldn't break apart now, Ron couldn't leave now.

"Then GO!" roared Harry. "Go back to them, pretend you've got over your spattergroit and Mummy'll be able to feed you up and—"

Hermione watched in horror as Ron made a sudden movement to grab his wand, and Harry reacted by doing the same. But before either of them could do anything, she shouted a "_Protego!"_ and an invisible shield expanded between her and Harry on the one side and Ron on the other.

Tears were quickly spilling from her eyes now as she observed her two best friends staring at each other with such a corrosive hatred that it made her heart ache.

"Please, please just stop," she choked out through her tears. She rushed over to Ron, attempting to remove the locket from around his neck, but he immediately pushed her away, causing her to stumble back in shock.

"Leave the horcrux," Harry said.

Ron snarled, wrenching the chain from over his head and casting it into a nearby chair. Hermione's heart nearly stopped as he turned to look at her, with a fire blazing in his once familiar blue eyes.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Are you staying, or what?"

Hermione looked at him in shock. Did he really expect her to just abandon Harry? Simply because she wasn't pleased with the way things were going?

"Yes—yes, I'm staying. Ron, we said we'd go with Harry, we said we'd help—"

"I get it. You choose him."

She stared at him with a mix of anger and despair. A part of her wanted to throttle him, but another part was begging for him to stay, to realize what a horrible decision he was making. To remind him that he'd made a promise long ago...centuries ago, it seemed. He made a promise to her that they would stay by Harry's side. He promised her. _He promised her. _

But it didn't matter, none of it mattered. Because even as she pleaded for Ron not to go, he ignored her. He stormed out of the tent once and for all and Disapparated away.

The room was now filled with a dead sort of silence, the kind that made her afraid to breathe lest she be heard. And neither her nor Harry said a word the rest of that night, each consumed in miserable thoughts that could not be escaped even in their sleep.

...

_"He'll be okay, Hermione," she heard Ron say quietly._

_She looked up into his face, her vision still slightly blurred from the tears. "Promise me something, Ron."_

_"Sure...anything..."_

_Hermione swallowed hard, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. "Promise me that you and I will never leave Harry's side. __Promise me__," she said in a shaky voice._

_She looked Ron straight in the eyes. There was something in them that she couldn't quite read. Something she'd never seen before._

_"I promise."_

_And in an instant, that something was gone._

* * *

><p>For the next few weeks, neither Harry nor Hermione dared mention Ron's name. Indeed, they were spending many evenings in near silence. It was almost as if a part of both of them had broken the day Ron left and was now taking painfully long to mend itself again.<p>

It didn't help that they now had to wear the horcrux for even longer periods of time, with Ron gone. And this proved to have a great toll on them.

As Hermione sat one evening rereading _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_, her mind seemed to wander from the words on the page and into unbidden thoughts of her own.

She found herself staring intently at Harry for a long time as he lay on his bunk observing the Marauder's map. And it was at that moment when a terrifying realization struck her.

As she stared at him, she felt nothing.

In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she held any sort of emotion for Harry at all, any sort of affection. Even before Ron's departure. It was like...she'd gone numb.

Hermione continued to gaze at him for a long while, willing her heart to react in some manner. Willing herself to just..._feel_.

But still she felt nothing. And it frustrated her.

What had happened to make her this way? Did she no longer have feelings? Any feelings at all? Was she completely emotionless?

_No...I do feel._

_I feel sad, I feel guilty, I feel hopeless, I feel empty. I do feel. _

_I just don't feel any good. _

Hermione swallowed painfully, a lump forming in the back of her throat. How could she have let this happen?

She looked down at the locket around her neck, and let a single tear escape her eye. Could this vile, evil, disgusting object really affect her this way? She had loved Harry. She had loved him with all her heart. Could such an object just strip that love away from her? Just strip it so easily? Like it was nothing?

She couldn't even remember the last time she felt any sort of love at all. Any sort of happiness, enthusiasm, optimism, or hope.

The horcrux had drained her, _Voldemort_ had drained her.

And she'd done nothing to stop him.

As Hermione held the innocent-looking locket in her hand, tracing the tiny emeralds with her thumb, she was overcome by the most vehement desire to destroy it. To obliterate it.

She yearned to feel happiness again, she wanted to smile and laugh again. She wanted to look at Harry and feel butterflies in her stomach and heat in her face and infinite love in her heart. She missed him. She missed him so much it hurt her. She missed him even though he'd been right next to her for so long.

Hermione wasn't sure how long she sat there, staring at Harry. Staring at him without really seeing him. But now...now she stared until she _could _see him. And in that moment she seemed to realize all over again that she really did love him. No amount of evil in the world could change that.

And so, that night, that moment, she _refused_ to ever let anything have power over her own heart again.

* * *

><p>Hermione was searching diligently through her Runes book for possibly the twelfth time, but she just couldn't seem to find the ruddy symbol.<p>

"It has to be in here somewhere..." she said, hoping that if she said it enough times, it would suddenly appear in front of her.

Somewhere across the room she heard Harry clear his throat, but she barely even registered the noise as she continued scouring the textbook in front of her.

"Hermione, I've been thinking, and—"

"Harry, could you help me with something?" she asked, snapping her head up, finally to see that he'd already made his way over to her.

"Look at that symbol," she said, pointing to the top of the page.

"I never took Ancient Runes, Hermione."

"I know that, but it isn't a rune and it isn't in the syllabary, either. Think, have you ever seen it before?"

Harry leaned his head next to hers to squint at the page, and he was so close Hermione could feel his body heat emanating off him. She closed her eyes for a moment, the smallest hint of a smile on her face.

"No...No, wait a moment." Harry looked closer. "Isn't it the same symbol Luna's dad was wearing round his neck?"

Hermione's eyes snapped opened. "Well, that's what I thought too!" she said, pleased.

They discussed the possible meaning of the strange symbol for a moment when Harry cleared his throat yet again.

"Hermione?" he asked.

"Hmm?"

"I—I want to go to Godric's Hollow."

She looked up at him and was surprised to see somewhat of a nervous look on his face. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I've been wondering that too. I really think we'll have to. I can't think of anywhere else it could be, either."

"Er—w_hat's_ there?" asked Harry, a confused look on his face that probably mirrored her own at the moment.

"Well, the sword, Harry! Dumbledore must have known you'd want to go back there, and I mean, Godric's Hollow is Godric Gryffindor's birthplace—"

"Really? Gryffindor came from Godric's Hollow?"

Hermione refrained from rolling her eyes. "Harry, did you ever even open _A History of Magic?"_

She looked at him, waiting for some sort of defensive remark. But none came. Instead he simply smiled.

And yet, to Hermione, there was nothing simple about it at all. Because it was the first time she'd seen him smile in weeks, months even. And this simple smile warmed her heart to such a degree that she wondered vaguely if it had been frozen all this time.

His smile. She_ loved_ his smile.

"So, when should we go then? As soon as possible, yeah? How about tomorrow?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Woah, woah, woah! Slow down there, Harry. We're not going anywhere until we have absolutely everything planned out. We don't want another repeat of the Ministry," Hermione stated adamantly.

Harry seemed to visibly deflate.

"We'll start with our disguises. We'll use the Invisibility Cloak, obviously. And we'll definitely need some polyjuice. I suppose we'll have to go into town and try and take a few hairs..."

And so they continued planning. Or rather, Hermione continued planning while Harry sat there nodding his head in agreement, seeming too pleased to disagree with anything she was saying.

It didn't take long for Hermione to understand why Harry had been so confused when she'd mentioned the sword earlier. He didn't want to go to Godric's Hollow to look for it. He wanted to go to Godric's Hollow for the simple reason of going there. Because it was where he was born, where his parents were buried. Because it was his home.

Hermione only hoped with all her heart that nothing would go wrong.

"Let's take off the Cloak," said Harry.

She turned to him in fright, ready to give a thousand reasons why this was a bad idea.

"Oh, come on, we don't look like us and there's no one around."

Hermione still felt a bit uneasy, but she knew there was no way of changing Harry's mind about this. So, instead, she chose to keep to very careful watch of their surroundings.

"Harry, I think it's Christmas Eve!" said Hermione, hearing a carol start up inside the nearby church.

"Is it?"

As her eyes took in the little church, she spotted the edge of what looked like a graveyard behind it.

"I'm sure it is," she replied. "They...they'll be in there, won't they? Your mum and dad? I can see the graveyard."

She turned her head to look at Harry who was gazing fixedly at the same spot. His unfamiliar brown eyes were bright and there seemed to be a dozen different emotions playing on his face. But above all, he looked both excited and afraid.

Without so much as a thought, Hermione placed her hand in his, and led him forward, not ignoring the flutter in her heart that his touch had elicited.

Once inside the graveyard, they separated to search through the long rows of tombstones. It wasn't until Hermione found the Dumbledores and Peverells, that her eyes finally landed on a small white marble headstone.

"Harry, they're here...right here," she said softly, turning around to look at him.

He moved towards her slowly, hesitantly, as if he wasn't quite sure if he wanted to see or not. But finally, he came to stop right in front of the grave.

As Hermione stood there next to Harry, she was overcome by the deepest feeling of sorrow. For Harry, for the two people who had once lived, had once loved him with all their hearts and more. And not for the first time, she was struck by the cruelty of fate. For Harry's fate, in particular. Why was someone as kind and loving and _good_ as Harry dealt with such misfortune? When would he finally be free of all the pain and all the sadness? When would he finally be able to live his life?

Hermione longed for the day. She longed for it as if it were her own.

Tears were now falling freely down Harry's face, but he seemed almost oblivious to them. Hermione took his hand in hers again, gripping it tightly and staring determinedly straight ahead. He wouldn't want her to see him crying, after all. So, she wouldn't look.

Instead, she knelt down and moved her wand in a circle through the air, making a beautiful wreath of Christmas roses blossom before the headstone.

And when she stood back up, Harry did something he had never done: He placed his arm around Hermione's shoulders, holding her closer than he had ever held her before. She instinctively leaned back into him, placing her own arm around his waist and listening to his deep, sharp gulps of air turn into steady breathing once more.

No words were exchanged in that moment, but somehow, the gratitude in Harry's eyes, face, and entire being, meant more than any 'thank you' he could have ever spoken.

* * *

><p>Hermione waited.<p>

Something wasn't right. She'd felt it the moment she stepped into the house. No...the moment they'd been spotted by Bathilda.

And now, like a fool, she'd let Harry go upstairs with her, alone.

They were taking too long...

What was taking so long?

Hermione paced the tight corridor fretfully, attempting to reassure herself that everything was fine. That she was just overreacting, like usual.

But then out of nowhere, the sound of shattering glass cut through the deadly silence of the old house.

"Harry?" she called up the staircase, her heart pounding loudly in her ears.

There was no response.

Hermione immediately rushed up the old, rickety steps as fast as her legs could carry her. There were three rooms on the upper landing, and she tried each of them unsuccessfully until she reached the last door on the right. When she opened it, it took everything Hermione had not to scream at the top of her lungs.

There in the corner of the room was an unconscious Harry pinned down to the ground by a giant snake. Hermione had to remind herself to breathe for a moment as she took in the scene. But without a second's deliberation, she aimed her wand at the snake and fired a jet of white light that instantly made the creature recoil. Its giant head slammed against a large wardrobe behind it, causing the furniture to topple dangerously close to Harry's body.

The snake now had its sights set on her. It struck suddenly, causing Hermione to dive aside with a shriek, her deflected curse hitting the curtained window, which shattered. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harry get up and grab his wand, but the snake's tail cut through her line of vision, missing her by mere centimetres.

The creature was now thrashing about wildly as both Harry and Hermione tried to escape the small room, but there seemed to be no hope.

"He's coming! _Hermione, he's coming!"_ Harry's voice shouted among the chaos.

As she crouched down to avoid another blow, Harry rushed over and pulled her painfully across the bed and towards the window, pieces of glass puncturing every inch of her skin. Hermione screamed "_Confringo!"_ as the snake lunged again, her spell flying around the room and exploding the wardrobe mirror.

Pulling Hermione with him, Harry leapt from bed to broken dressing table and then straight out of the smashed window into nothingness, managing to disapparate away just seconds before hitting the ground below.

Then everything was silent.

Hermione sucked in a large breath of air as if she had been underwater the entire time. She stood up, casting all the necessary protective charms, then turned to look for Harry.

She felt a chill instantly pass over her body when she spotted him.

"H-Harry?" she choked out, rushing over to his side.

Hey lay on the forest ground, shaking and shivering like mad.

"Harry! Harry, wake up!" she begged, shaking him roughly. "Wake up!"

Sweat was pouring from his forehead like water as he began writhing on the ground, shouting out things Hermione couldn't understand, making noises she had never heard him make, moaning in such agony she didn't think possible for him to feel.

Tears were quickly spilling down her cheeks as she looked at him, completely bewildered and utterly terrified.

"Harry! _Harry!"_ she shouted again and again through her sobs, trying frantically to shake him awake.

Hermione's eyes grew wide as she suddenly noticed a pool of blood seeping through the arm of his jacket. She tore the article of clothing swiftly from his body, and carefully rolled the sleeve of his shirt up to observe the wound.

"_Oh, God!"_ she whispered in terror, her hand flying to her mouth in shock.

The snake had bit him on the forearm, and the blood was slowly dripping down the length of his arm.

She clutched her hair desperately with her hands, shaking from her tears.

"Oh, God, what do I do? _What do I do?" _ she cried out to the empty forest around her.

With shaking hands, Hermione summoned the bottle of dittany from her bag, and unstoppered it, praying with all her heart that it would work on snake bites. She was finding it difficult to pour the potion over the wound, however, as Harry continued to thrash about on the ground. So she grabbed his arm forcefully, placing a knee on his hand to keep him from moving.

As the potion made contact with the wound, it seemed to burn and sizzle as it had done with Ron. She closed her eyes in momentary relief, wiping the tears from her face with her sleeve.

However, the relief was short-lived as Harry let out another loud moan, twisting himself on the ground.

Hermione was at a loss. She had no idea what was happening and no idea how to stop it.

"Harry..." she choked out, placing her hands on his face, willing him to wake from this nightmare. "I don't know what's wrong, Harry...I don't know what's wrong, but...just...Just please wake up. _Please."_

Hermione suddenly spotted the chain around his neck. Sitting back up abruptly, she reached to take off the locket, but was met with a surprising resistance.

She tried again. But again, the locket refused to part with Harry, appearing to be stuck to his chest. Hermione tried several spells to remove it, but in the end only a Severing Charm had proven successful.

She pulled up Harry's shirt hesitantly to observe any damage, and grimaced when she saw the scarlet oval over his heart where the locket had burned him.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she whispered, through a haze of tears. "I'm so sorry."

With the locket off, much of his shaking had subsided. However, as Harry lay in the lower bunk of the tent, he continued to let out long, low, and endless moans.

As the hours passed, Hermione had taken to wiping the sweat off his face with a wet cloth as it continued to drip down in uncanny amounts. His clothes were stuck to his body, and his usually messy hair lay completely flat against his head.

She longed for him to wake up from whatever had taken hold over him. She longed to see his green eyes staring back at her.

When was the last time she'd really looked into his eyes? She couldn't remember. How could she have been so stupid...to let that opportunity pass her by. The chance to look into Harry's beautiful green eyes.

Fresh tears fell down her cheeks even after she thought she'd cried them all, already. Hermione placed her hand gently on Harry's face, feeling the heat of his body sear through her palm.

"Wake up, Harry," she begged, softly. "Wake up, I need you."

Hermione exhaled slowly, removing her hand from his face

"No..." he moaned. "No..."

She looked at him sadly, her eyes downcast and feeling hopeless.

"No..." Harry said, louder. "No..."

"Harry, it's all right, you're all right!" she said, desperately.

"No...I dropped it...I dropped it..."

"Harry, it's okay, wake up, wake up!"

And just like that, he awoke.

"Harry," Hermione whispered, not quite believing her eyes. "Do you feel all—all right?"

"Yes," he replied, his voice scratchy.

He was clearly lying, but Hermione was so overcome by relief she only gave him a watery smile in return. She had the strongest urge to throw her arms around him and never let go, but his body looked too fragile at the moment to risk it.

As they both explained to each other what had happened, Hermione could not seem to tear her eyes away from Harry. It was like she was seeing him for the first time, or perhaps even the last time, and had to memorize every bit of his face before they parted.

Either way, she wondered madly how she could have ever let her feelings for Harry dissipate. When at this moment, she had never felt so strongly for him before.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked, as Harry joined her outside the tent later that evening.

"As good as one can feel after being attacked by a snake," he replied.

Hermione gave him a sad sort of smile. "That was more than just a simple snake attack, you know. I was so scared, Harry," she added, quietly, not looking at him.

"I'm sorry," he offered.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, shut up," she said. "Just promise me one thing."

"Hmm?" Harry asked, leaning back against the tree.

"The next time we go on some dangerous mission, we really _will_ be more prepared."

"You know I can't promise that, Hermione," Harry said. "Especially with our track record, so far."

Hermione sighed. "Yeah, I was afraid of that."

They sat in silence for a moment, and then: "I really am sorry, though. For today...I'm the one who suggested going to Godric's Hollow in the first place," Harry said."And what did we gain from it? Nothing."

"That's not true, Harry." Hermione insisted. "Now we know that Nagini really is one of the horcruxes—"

"Yeah, and what good will that do us? She never leaves his side. Today was probably the only chance we had at destroying it," Harry said, glumly.

"Don't you dare go losing hope," Hermione said, seriously. "Just think about it. We've already identified two horcruxes, we have one of them, and we only need to find two more. We can do it, I know we can."

"Do you honestly believe that?" Harry said, unconvinced.

Hermione paused for a moment, contemplating his question. Then she stared into his eyes.

"Yes," she said, finally. "And I know you do, too."

He looked at her somewhat skeptically.

"Because that's just the type of person you are," she continued. "You don't give up. Even if the entire world is against you, you stand by what you believe. And you have _no idea_ how much I admire you for that."

Harry didn't seem to know how to respond. He looked uncomfortable at being complimented in such a way, but Hermione merely smiled at him.

"It's true," she shrugged.

"Well, you'd do the same," he admitted.

"Me?" Hermione responded, giving a humourless laugh. "I'm nothing like you. I only believe things when they make sense to me."

"There's nothing wrong with that."

"There's everything wrong with that!" Hermione stated. "Just because something doesn't make sense to me, doesn't mean I shouldn't try and understand it."

"But you're usually right about everything, anyway," he said in a matter-of-fact way.

"Not the important stuff, not the stuff that really matters." Hermione then sighed heavily. "Harry, I never even apologized to you."

"For what?" he said, confused.

She stared at a spot behind him intently. "For last year. You were right about everything. You were right about Malfoy and Snape and the Death Eaters, but I was too thick to realize it. And instead of...of hearing what you had to say, of trying to understand, I just...chose not to believe you. And I'm _so_ sorry for that."

As she said these last words, her eyes moved to meet his. He still seemed confused about something, however.

"Harry, this is part where you accept my apology..."

He nodded absently, playing with a stray thread of fabric from his sweater. "Hermione, you didn't have to apologize for that. How many times have I completely ignored what you've said to me? You always try to warn me about stuff...but I never listen," he said, still occupying himself with the thread.

"But this was different. This wasn't about schoolwork or study habits. You tried to warn us, Harry. You tried to warn us about something much more important—"

"SO DID YOU!" he shouted suddenly, springing up from the ground to tower over her.

Hermione stared up at him, her mouth slightly open in surprise. He turned around swiftly so that his back was facing her.

"So did you," he repeated, in a much quieter tone.

Hermione could have sworn she heard a slight tremble in his voice.

"Harry..."

She saw him wipe his eyes violently before turning back around.

"You tried to warn me, Hermione," he said in a broken voice. "You didn't believe Sirius was at the ministry, you didn't think he was in danger. You knew it was a trick. You tried to warn me, Hermione, you tried to warn me!"

"But I didn't listen," he continued, in a desperate tone. "I didn't listen to you. Even after you _begged_ me to listen to you."

"AND NOW HE'S DEAD!" Harry shouted out to the empty forest. "He's dead because of _me! _Because of _me_, Hermione."

He slammed his fist against the nearby tree, before falling back down to ground on his knees, breathing in short and shallow breaths.

"I would give anything to go back to that day and—and just _listen_..."

"Harry..." she whispered.

But she didn't believe any words in the English language would have brought him comfort at that moment. So she did the only thing she could think of. She took his hand in hers and leaned her head against his shoulder.

There were words to be spoken, yes. Thoughts to be discussed. Pain to be resolved. Broken things to be mended.

But there was a time for that. And that time was a different time. It was a different place. It wasn't now. It wasn't this moment.

So they stayed in that position for what could have been years, each grasping the other's hand as if it were their own life support. Several times she saw Harry wipe his eyes discreetly with his sleeve, until finally he just let the tears fall unreservedly. Somehow they both knew that this moment would never again be brought up in regular conversation, and for that reason they both felt a certain freedom.

It wasn't until sometime later when Harry finally spoke again.

"Hermione?"

"Yeah?" she responded.

"I accept your apology."

She looked up at him and saw a soft smile playing on his lips.

And his eyes, his beautiful green, emerald eyes...she saw hope.

* * *

><p>AN: So, I orginally planned on having more stuff in this chapter that would have provided a nice break from all the depression, but this was getting so long already. Soo, that's what the next chapter is for, I suppose. Sorry if this was a gloomy read...but it's a gloomy time of their lives, after all! Warning: Hermione's life is a rollercoaster. I just want to prepare all of you for that now, and will continue to prepare you as the story goes on. (I hope I didn't just scare anyone) But enough of that for now. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, thanks to everyone for reading!


	31. Chapter 31

_Do you know what it's like...to be with a person who makes you feel so _comfortable_. And when in you're in a room together, it's like you're in a room by yourself. _

_You don't have to try, you don't have to worry, you don't have to pretend. _

_Because it's just you. And it's just them. And it's so simple. _

_I wish life was always like that, I wish it was always that simple. _

* * *

><p>"Hey, Harry!" Hermione called.<p>

She walked in and found him lying on his bunk, searching the Marauder's Map as usual. "Do you have anything that needs to be washed? I'm about to do my clothes."

"Er...don't worry about it, I'll do it myself," he said, not looking at her.

"Harry, we both know you're terrible at cleaning spells," Hermione stated. "Just give them to me, it'll take two seconds."

But he seemed to hesitate.

"I promise I won't look," she added finally, with an eye roll.

Harry sighed, setting down the map and sitting up. He bent down to retrieve his small pile of laundry from under the bed and then walked over to place it in her waiting hand.

"They'll be back before you know it," she reassured him with a smile, exiting the tent before he could respond.

True to her word, Hermione didn't let her eyes linger on any article of Harry's clothing that was not normally made available for her viewing pleasure. Whether or not she wished otherwise, however, was a question she was too shy to answer even to her own self.

After she was finished, she used her wand to fold everything into a neat pile and walked back inside the tent to return them to their owner.

"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Hermione said, placing the pile into his arms.

Harry didn't respond at first.

"Is something wrong?"she asked, confused.

"Hermione...why do these smell like strawberries?" Harry asked, after taking a whiff.

Hermione felt her eyes go wide.

"Oh Harry, I'm sorry! I always use a special fragrance charm after I'm done washing my clothes. I guess I just did it without thinking," she explained. "Here, let me fix it."

"Well, it does smell quite nice," he admitted, handing them over.

She turned away, fearing he would see the heat in her cheeks.

"It's just not really _me_, I suppose," he said, jokingly.

"Well, there," she said, turning back around, "now I made them smell more like you."

"Not that I know what you smell like," Hermione added suddenly. "I-I just meant like...like normal."

Harry stared at her.

"You do smell nice, though. Well...in that you don't smell _bad_. Okay, no—" she said quickly. "What I really mean to say is—"

"Hermione," Harry said loudly, cutting her off, "I get it."

She was silent for a moment, mentally berating herself.

"Right..." she finally said. "I'm going to go collect some more firewood, then."

"I can do that if you want," Harry offered.

"No, no, it's fine. I want some fresh air anyway," Hermione insisted. And she headed out of the tent before he could get in another word.

Once outside, Hermione was finally able to relax. She really had no idea what had come over her, but supposed it was just a temporary bout of insanity. After all, she couldn't even remember the last time she had blushed in his presence.

Being alone with Harry for weeks had caused her to become almost immune to self-consciousness and embarrassment. They were too used to each other by now. They were too used to seeing each other every waking moment of the day. To the point where Hermione was fairly certain she now knew Harry as much as she knew herself.

It was a wonderful, terrifying thing.

Wonderful, because she never dreamed she could be so unreservedly at ease with another human being.

Terrifying, because it was becoming that much more difficult to conceal her feelings.

So many times she longed to tell him. During those moments in the night when the only relief they could find was each other's company.

Some days they would sit outside by the fire for hours, just talking. They talked about a lot of things. There were the more frequent conversations about the horcruxes and hallows, but after a certain point they would lay rest to these discussions. And then they talked about other things. They talked about each other, about themselves. Because really, what else was there to do? What else was there to keep them sane?

"My turn."

Hermione opened her mouth in indignation. "Um, no. You didn't answer my question!"

"Yes, I did," Harry insisted.

"No, you didn't. Saying that you'd find the counter curse isn't an acceptable answer," she said matter-of-factly.

Harry groaned loudly. "Fine. If I woke up one day and found I'd been turned into a girl, I would...I dunno...see what it feels like to fly with long hair."

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"What?" he said defensively.

"That's the best you can come up with?" she asked.

He threw her a pointed look.

"Well, at the rate you're going, you can probably do that in about a month, anyway," she said, leaning over to touch his hair. "You _really_ need a haircut."

Hermione observed him for a moment, holding her wand delicately in her fingers. "Maybe if I just..."

Harry, who was forcefully chewing on a piece of meat that Hermione had attempted to cook, suddenly looked up.

"Maybe if you just what?" he asked, warily.

"Well, I'm not exactly an expert at grooming spells, but I do know the basics. Perhaps I can just...give you a little trim?" she suggested, moving towards him.

But he immediately moved away. "Er...I'll pass, thanks."

Hermione scoffed. "Have you seen yourself in the mirror lately? You're starting to look like Hagrid."

"I just shaved yesterday!" he exclaimed.

"I'm talking about your _hair_, Harry," she said. "Come on, just a little trim. Do it for my sake if not yours. I'm the one who has to stare at you all day."

He looked at her wand apprehensively, not yet convinced.

"If I make a mistake, I'm sure I can just fix it up with some more magic," she assured him. "Let's go, I'll do it inside."

She stood up abruptly, proffering her hand.

"Wha—you mean, _now_?" he said, looking up at her.

"There's no better time like the present, Harry."

He sighed in defeat, taking her hand and standing up.

Moments later Harry sat on a chair, waiting impatiently for Hermione to begin.

"What's taking so long?" he complained.

"I'm just observing," she replied. "I want to make sure I do this right."

Hermione carefully took a lock of Harry's hair between her fingers and recited the incantation. Then a faint purple glow emitted from her wand, severing the hair in a perfect straight line.

"It worked!" she exclaimed.

"And why do you sound so surprised?" Harry asked, slowly.

But instead of answering, she merely continued on with the process, yelling at Harry every so often to keep his head straight or to stop moving.

However, Hermione was starting to feel just the slightest bit guilty. She knew she was enjoying this task much more than she should have and probably could have completed it a lot sooner than she actually did. But the feel of Harry's soft locks between her fingers was simply too enticing.

She'd often had fickle fantasies of being able to run her hands through Harry's untidy hair, to see if it felt as amazing as it looked. And perhaps this was the closest she would ever get to these fantasies.

But Hermione longed for it to be otherwise. She longed to one day have free liberty to touch and feel and run her hands through Harry's soft, black messy hair as much as she wanted, for as long as she wanted. She couldn't imagine ever growing tired of it.

"Done," she announced, finally.

Harry immediately brought his hands up to his head as if checking to make sure he still had hair left.

"Here," she said, conjuring up a small mirror and holding it in front of him. "Not too bad...right?"

He observed himself, turning his head in either direction. "It actually looks quite normal," he admitted.

"Gee, thanks," she said, shoving his shoulder.

"No, you should take that as a compliment. Believe me, I've had my fair share of horrendous haircuts."

"Have you?" Hermione asked as she seated herself crossed legged on the ground. "I've never noticed any."

"Well, you wouldn't. It was a long time ago, when my Aunt Petunia still thought she could make me look less like a freak," he said, taking a seat across from her.

Hermione looked at him questioningly. "A freak?"

"You know—because of the scar," he stated. "She used to chop off all my hair and leave a bit to cover it up. But then the next day I would grow it all back with magic, anyway."

Hermione grinned. "I bet she hated that."

"Oh yeah," he said, chuckling. "More than I ever realized..."

Harry stared off into space for a minute, seemingly lost in a string of forgotten memories.

It wasn't until that moment that Hermione realized she really didn't know as much about Harry as she thought. There was a whole other life he had lived without her. A whole other life she knew nothing about. And she wasn't sure if he'd want to share it with her, or with anyone for that matter.

"Did you ever do any magic when you were a kid?" he asked, finally breaking out of his reverie.

Hermione pondered this question for a moment. "You mean besides the occasional destruction of valuable items when I was sad?" she said, smirking. "No, not really. Well...actually, there w_as_ this one thing..."

"Go on, then," Harry urged.

"I don't know...you'll laugh at me," Hermione said, looking away.

"I promise I won't," he insisted.

"Oh, nobody ever keeps that promise," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Okay, so then tell me anyway."

Hermione sighed, looking into Harry's willing face.

"Fine," she announced, finally.

He gave a little whoop of triumph that made Hermione smile despite herself.

"But you cannot share this with anyone, do you understand?" she added, seriously.

"What, did you kill someone or something?" he asked.

"_Harry."_

"All right, all right," he said, holding up his hands in surrender. "Who am I going to tell anyway, the dead leaves outside?"

Hermione threw him a stern look. Or at least tried too. The mirth dancing in his green eyes was simply too infectious.

Not to mention, he was looking especially adorable with his new hair cut.

"Okay, so, when I was younger, there was this..._insufferable_ girl whose main pleasure in life was to tease me," Hermione began. "She would say a lot of things, but it was mostly stuff about my hair or how I read too much or whatever. I mean, I ignored it after a while, but...one day she went a little too far, I guess."

Harry stared at her, his eyebrows creased in concentration, and his arms crossed firmly over his chest.

"And it just happened all of a sudden," Hermione continued. "I was so _angry_ that I—well I—I..."

"You what?"

"I made her vanish," Hermione uttered, guiltily.

Harry's eyes went wide in disbelief. "You _what?"_

"I made her vanish," she repeated. "She was gone for about two weeks..."

"But, wh—how...where did she go?" he spluttered, his voice increasing in pitch with every word.

"I honestly have no idea," Hermione replied, shaking her head. "But do you want to know the worst part?"

He nodded wordlessly.

"Nobody even realized she was gone. And I mean nobody. It was like...she didn't even exist!" she exclaimed. "And you can imagine the state I was in. I didn't even know _what_ to think. I knew it had to be my fault, but I had absolutely no idea how I'd done it."

"Then two weeks later, _bam_ there she is," Hermione continued emphatically. "And the world carried on as usual, like nothing had happened. Hermione Granger had officially gone mad."

Harry stared at her for a moment. Then out of nowhere he gave a loud bark of laughter that continued on for about five minutes.

"Are you finished?" she asked at last, her sweet tone dripping with sarcasm.

He nodded, letting the last of his chuckles die down before clearing his throat. "Did you ever tell anyone?" he asked, the amusement still clearly written on his face.

"God, no," Hermione replied, affronted by the mere idea. "Well, I did tell my mum a couple of years ago, but absolutely no one else."

"Besides me," he added.

"Besides you," she admitted, grudgingly. "And remind me again why I did that?"

"Because I'm skilled in the art of persuasion," Harry answered, cheekily.

Hermione stared at him with one eyebrow raised.

"And because I'm your best friend and you trust me."

"Much better," she smiled.

"By the way," Hermione said suddenly. "Did you or did you not promise me that you wouldn't laugh at what I had to say?"

"Oops."

"You know what," she said, delicately. "You deserve some sort of punishment for that."

Harry looked up at her with a small smile. "What are you going to do? Make me vanish?"

Hermione opened her mouth in indignation. "Oh you did _not _just go there!" she scoffed loudly. And with one swift, motion, she pushed Harry hard to the ground.

"I've taken self-defence classes, you know," she warned, her knee digging into his stomach.

"Funny, seeing as I'm the one who clearly needs the self-defence," he grunted.

"Will you ever break another promise again, Harry?" she asked, ignoring him.

"Well...it's possible," he shrugged.

She dug her knee harder into him and laid her arm across his chest firmly. "And you're sure about that?" she said, her hair falling around her face as she stared down at him.

Harry grimaced in slight pain, but stared back at her nonetheless.

"You're quite strong, you know that," he stated, still looking into her eyes.

"Thanks."

Hermione suddenly noticed that her face had somehow gotten much closer to Harry's since the start. She knew she should pull back, but even the thought of doing so seemed absurd at the moment. Everything about him was much too inviting, everything about him made her heart beat furiously in her chest. Did he have any idea how much he affected her? Did he have any clue in the world that she was trying so desperately hard not to do something stupid right now?

Her eyes shifted down to his lips for just a fraction of a second, but that was all it took to set her body on fire. She was suddenly much more aware of her arm and leg that were still firmly placed on top of him, trapping him underneath her.

_Trapping him?_

_He doesn't want this..._

_He doesn't want you. _

And just like that, reality came crashing back into her. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said, untangling herself from him. "I'm sorry, I'm probably hurting—"

"Your hair smells like strawberries."

Hermione froze.

She watched as he pushed himself back up to lean on his elbows, casually lying there as if he hadn't just made her heart stop.

"Er...yeah, I know..." she replied, not quite sure what to say.

She really wished her pulse would slow back down to a normal pace because it was making it quite hard to formulate intelligible thoughts.

_Calm down. He didn't proclaim his love to you he just pointed out that your hair smells like fruit. _

_Do. Not. Overreact. _

_But...he did say he liked it earlier..._

_No. _

_On his clothes, he said he liked it on his clothes!_

_Stop. _

_I'm overreacting, aren't I?_

_Yes._

_Oops..._

"Hermione," Harry said, bringing her back to her surroundings.

She looked over at him and saw that he was now sitting up facing her.

"Thanks for making me laugh, by the way."

Hermione smiled softly. "We haven't laughed in a while, have we?"

He shook his head thoughtfully.

"It's good for you, laughter..." she mused. "It strengthens your immune system, diminishes your pain, boosts your energy...what?"

She stopped as she saw Harry chuckling quietly to himself.

"Nothing, it's just...do you know everything, Hermione?" he asked, grinning.

She blushed slightly. "Don't be silly, of course I don't know everything."

"Well, it certainly seems that way. You're like the most brilliant person I know," he said matter-of-factly.

"You don't know too many people, Harry," she laughed.

"Ouch..." he said, putting a hand on his chest as if wounded.

Hermione giggled.

"Hey, Hermione," Harry said suddenly.

"Hmm?"

"Can I ask you something?" he said, slowly.

The sudden change in his tone made her look up at him curiously. "Sure," she replied.

"What did that girl do to you...to make you so angry?" he said, quietly.

Hermione was a bit taken aback by his question, wondering why he had even remembered this small detail in the first place.

"Oh...um..."

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," he said quickly. "I was just...curious.

Hermione paused for a moment, thinking. Did she want to tell him...? Did she want to share something so private with him? _Could _she?

She stared into his eyes, into the deep green depths, and he stared back, unblinkingly. What was it about Harry's eyes that always seemed to bring her comfort? How was it that she was so hesitant to tell anyone anything about herself, yet when it came to Harry...one look and she could spill all her secrets.

It was scary, it was terrifying, it was unnerving. But she _loved_ it.

Because she knew she could trust him, and that feeling was absolutely wonderful.

"No, I-It's fine, Harry. I'll tell you," Hermione replied, softly.

He nodded, waiting patiently for her to begin.

"Okay, well...have you ever heard of the _Wizard of Oz_?" she asked.

"Yeah..." he replied.

"Well...I used to have this book about it, about the story. It had a bunch of beautiful pictures and everything. I absolutely _adored_ it," she said, smiling wistfully to herself. "And I used to bring it to school, everyday. You know, just to read..."

"But one day, this girl, who used to pick on me a lot, well...she took it from me. She took it and she threw it to the ground. Then she picked it back up and—and started ripping the pages before my eyes, ripping all those beautiful pictures. She destroyed them, every last bit... And it just really hurt me inside, you know."

"And then she told me that I was ugly. Just like the wicked witch." Hermione swallowed hard before continuing. "I mean, I know it sounds silly, but...when you're seven years old those words cut through you like a knife. You wouldn't believe how many days I spent crying because of it, because of her..."

Hermione was surprised to find a single tear escape her eye. She wiped it away quickly, but Harry pretended not to notice.

Silence continued to fill the room for a long time after, leaving Hermione to dwell on long forgotten memories of her childhood.

"Hermione," Harry said, once again breaking into her thoughts.

She looked over at him, having almost forgotten he was still there.

"I'm sorry..."

She was slightly taken aback by the gentleness of his tone. It was a tone she had never heard him use before, and it affected her in a way she couldn't quite explain. It was like a sudden warmth had spread throughout her entire body, to the darkest depths of her soul.

And she realized then...that she didn't _care_. She hadn't cared for a while. Where once her memories had brought her pain, now—now they seemed so incredibly insignificant.

Because she wasn't alone anymore. She hadn't been for years.

It was this thought that brought a smile to her face, that filled her with happiness and made her heart sing.

She wasn't alone...

"Don't be sorry, Harry. It's not like it was your fault," she said, jokingly. "And besides, it was a long time ago, a _very_ long time ago."

"Well, she deserved what she got, and worse," he stated. "You're too good of a person to ever be treated like that."

Hermione smiled softly. "Even if that were true," she remarked, "It's often the good people that have to endure the worst, Harry. I don't know...maybe it's better that way..."

Harry creased his forehead in curiosity.

However, he didn't ask any more questions that night. Or the next night. Perhaps for years to come, he would sit and contemplate these very words until one day—he would finally understand.

"It's my turn, by the way."

He looked at her, comprehension not dawning on him. "For what?"

"To ask a question," Hermione explained with a small grin.

"Oh...right. Fire away."

She bit her lip, trying to think of the best way to ask what was on her mind. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to, either," she began.

He nodded his head in understanding.

"Do you think about Sirius a lot?"

Harry inhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair. She saw him clench his jaw tightly and turn his head away from her.

"Harry, I—"

"I don't really want to talk about this, Hermione," he said, cutting her off quickly.

There was silence for a moment, then:

"Why?"

Harry turned his head sharply to face her. "What do you mean, _why_?" he asked.

"Why don't you want to talk about it? I mean...is it me? Do you not want to talk to _me_ about it, or—"

"No, Hermione. No...it's not you," he said, rubbing his temple.

"Then...what is it?" she said softly.

Harry exhaled loudly. "I just don't want to think of him, okay?" he replied in an almost desperate voice. "There. There's your answer! I _never_ think about Sirius. Never."

He was almost shouting now, but Hermione knew this was the only way Harry ever let out his feelings. So, she would let him shout.

"It hurts you when you think about him," she said. But it was more of a statement than a question.

"Of course it hurts me," he exclaimed. "It eats me up inside! I mean, who am I to remember him, to have good memories of him, when _I'm_ the one who killed him."

"And...you think he would want that?" Hermione asked, slowly. "You think he'd want you to just...forget."

"Of course he wouldn't want that," Harry replied, annoyed.

"Then why do you insist on it?"

He didn't answer her, but instead clenched his jaw even tighter.

"Sirius loved you _so much_. More than anyone or anything in this world. And if there was one person he would want to remember him after he was gone, it would be you, Harry. Don't rob him of that. Don't rob him of the chance to see you happy," she said, pleading for him to understand.

"I know," he said, miserably. "I know you're right, but—it's just really hard for me to do that."

"I understand, Harry," she responded. "But can you do me a favour?"

"What?" he said, looking up.

"Think of a memory of just you and him. Something that makes you smile or laugh. A memory that you love...your favourite memory."

He stared off into the distance for several minutes, his face blank and expressionless.

"Got it," he announced, at last.

"Good," she replied, simply.

"Well, what do I do now?" Harry asked, confused.

Hermione smiled. "I don't know..."

He stared at her as if she'd gone mental.

"What do you think you should do now, Harry?" she responded.

He sighed, rubbing his face as if exhausted. He then stared down into his hands for a long while.

A very long while, long enough for him to cool down. And that was when he finally spoke.

"Think of it always," he said, quietly.

"I think that sounds perfect."

They both made eye contact at that moment, and Hermione's heart seemed to skip a beat. Harry smiled at her, but his smile seemed different.

It was fonder, more loving than she had ever seen it before.

* * *

><p>AN: Hello! Okay, so sorry for the century-long wait. I should be updating more frequently now that I'm on break (woot!). I hope you all enjoyed this painstaking chapter because it definately knocked all the energy out of me to write it. Please let me know if you loved or hated something (or simply liked or disliked something...cause you know...we're not all that passionate about fanfiction). I would really, really appreciate it as usual. And come on...this chapter was pure Harmony start to finish...I was contemplating adding Ron's entrance at the end but then I thought nahhhh these two lovebirds need their alone time. Sooo yeah, thanks for reading as always!


	32. Chapter 32

_My entire life, I've been burdened with this need to make sense of things. I need to believe that there's a reason for everything. I need to believe that life is logical. That life makes sense. _

_But sometimes it doesn't._

_Sometimes...life doesn't make sense. Sometimes it's cruel and painful and wrong. And God, how it hurts. _

_But even then, even after all that..._

_I have to believe there's a reason. _

* * *

><p>"Hermione."<p>

"Hermione."

"_Hermione!"_

Her eyes shot open and she found Harry's face looming over her, expectantly.

She instantly felt worry seep through her as if by reflex and sat up quickly, nearly hitting him in the nose.

"What's wrong? Harry? Are you all right?"

"It's okay, everything's fine," he replied, trying to calm her down. "More than fine. I'm great. There's someone here."

The momentary calm that passed over was quickly replaced by terror.

"What do you mean?" she said frantically, taking in his pleasant demeanour and wondering if he'd gone mad.

But before Harry could reply, she heard someone clear their throat near the entrance of the tent. Whipping her head around, she was met with a most bizarre sight: Ron, holding a sword in one hand and what appeared to be the locket in the other, dripping wet from head to foot.

Hermione squinted, as if not quite sure she was seeing right. Her brain was still slightly foggy from sleep, but as she got up to walk slowly towards him, reality was finally beginning to set in.

She came to a stop in front of him, gritting her teeth roughly as he gave her a weak, hopeful smile.

Hermione wished nothing more at the moment, than to wipe that stupid smile right off his face.

Did he really expect to just waltz back in here and pretend like nothing happened? Like he hadn't broken the most important promise he had ever made her? Like he hadn't abandoned his best friend when he needed him most? Abandoned him like the selfish, disloyal, coward that he was...

Hermione was beginning to feel her blood boil within her veins. Months of pent up anger was swelling inside of her, ticking away like a bomb. And at long last, she exploded.

She launched herself forward and started punching every inch of him that she could reach. And it felt absolutely amazing.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Hermione realized that there was probably a much more mature way to handle the current situation. However, she quickly silenced these thoughts. There would be plenty of time for maturity later.

"Ouch—ow—gerroff! What the—? Hermione—OW!"

"You—complete—_arse_—Ronald—Weasley!" she shouted, causing Ron to back away fearfully as he shielded his head.

"You crawl back here after weeks and weeks—oh, _where's my wand?"_

She turned around swiftly to face Harry who was slowly retreating backwards.

"Give me back my wand, Harry," she attempted, calmly. "_Give it back to me!"_

"Hermione, will you please—"

"Don't you tell me what to do, Harry Potter!" she said, fiercely. "Don't you dare! Give it back now!"

She was suddenly angry at Harry, as well. How could he just stand there? How could he not want to crush Ron into a pulp for what he'd done to them? Even before he left, Ron had made their lives miserable. Always complaining, always whining, always trying to tear everyone apart. No—she wasn't just going to forget everything he'd done. It wasn't that simple.

"Hermione, he just saved my—"

"I don't care!" she shouted at Harry. "I don't care what he's done! Weeks and weeks, we could have been _dead _for all he knew—"

"I knew you weren't dead!" bellowed Ron, drowning her voice for the first time.

Hermione turned back around with her arms locked tightly over her chest, glaring at him with such intensity that he had to look away.

He explained how Harry was all over the papers and the radio, how they were looking for him everywhere, and how he would have heard straight off if they were dead. He then proceeded to tell them all that had happened after he left the tent that day and how he had tracked them down with the Deluminator.

But none of this mattered to Hermione. She didn't care how much he'd wanted to come back. She cared that he'd left in the first place.

"I just had to hope that one of you would show yourselves in the end—and Harry did. Well, I saw the doe first, obviously."

"You saw the what?" said Hermione sharply.

Harry and Ron told her what had happened, and she was so bewildered she even forgot to appear angry for a moment.

"And it led you to the sword? I can't believe this! Then what happened?"

"Well, I saw Harry jump into the water and I waited for him to come back up, but...he didn't," said Ron.

Hermione threw Harry a 'we'll-talk-about-how-stupid-that-was-later' look, causing him to blush mildly as Ron continued on with the rest of the story.

"...So then, Harry opened the locket with Parseltongue...and...well..."

Hermione stared, waiting for him to continue, but he was suddenly refusing to meet her eyes.

"—and Ron stabbed it with the sword," Harry cut in.

She looked over at Harry. "And...and it went? Just like that?" she said, unbelievingly. She noticed him glance at Ron for a moment

"Well, it—it screamed," he added.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. Harry had never been very skilled in the art of lying. And by the looks that he and Ron were currently sharing, she knew that they were hiding something from her.

She sighed heavily, feeling the sleep that Ron had so rudely interrupted begin to overtake her once more. Whatever their little secret was could wait until morning, Hermione decided.

And so, without another word, she climbed back into her bed and fell asleep.

* * *

><p>Hermione awoke the next morning to find Harry's bed empty and Ron still fast asleep.<p>

She scoffed, getting up and making her way to the opening of the tent to check if Harry was outside. But the clearing was quite empty.

_Typical._

She groaned slightly, wondering when he would finally grasp the meaning of 'leave a note'.

"Harry?" she called lightly into the open forest.

No response came.

"Harry?" she tried again, this time louder.

Hermione pulled out her wand and crunched her way steadily through the dead leaves on the ground, looking all around her for any sign of raven hair. She had just reached the edge of their wards, when the sound of a twig snapping erupted from somewhere to her left.

She whipped her head around at the sound, her heart nearly leaping in her throat.

"Hermione, what are you—?"

She gasped suddenly at the voice, and turned around sharply to come face to face with a confused Harry.

"_Harry!_ What do you think you're doing!" she said, glaring angrily at him. "You nearly made my heart stop!"

"I was just—"

"Where did you come from?" she cut him off, abruptly. "You just popped out of nowhere!"

"I was wearing the Invisibility Cloak," he said, defensively.

"Well—well—don't do that!" she spluttered, giving him a hard shove in the chest for good measure.

"Hermione, relax. I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to frighten you," he said, holding up his hands in surrender.

"You don't just sneak up on someone like that," she muttered, annoyed. "Where were you anyway?"

"Just went for a walk. I was trying to figure out where that silver doe came from last night, or who could have conjured it," he replied. "There's no one else around here as far as I can tell, though."

"Well, that's all well and good, Harry, but for the umpteenth time, can you please just _tell _me when you head off somewhere?" she said, crossing her arms and giving him a severe look to rival McGonagall's.

"I forgot..." he replied, lamely.

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned around to make her trek back to the tent.

"Wait up!" Harry called, running to catch up with her. "So, what do you reckon this whole Patronus thing is about, then?"

"Oh yeah..." she said, letting her arms drop to her sides in defeat. "I don't know...I have to admit it's quite strange. I mean, maybe it was someone we know, someone from the Order? But then, why wouldn't they show themselves? And how could they have found us in the first place? And how did they possibly know we needed the sword? How'd they even manage to retrieve it?"

Harry stared at her blankly.

"So many _questions!" _she exclaimed in frustration, sitting herself down on a large boulder nearby.

"Well...maybe none of it really matters."

Hermione looked at him strangely. "What—you don't think we should be worried?"

"I don't see why. Whoever it was...they were trying to help us."

She sighed. "I know, but—either way, I think we should apparate out of here. Just to be safe," she added.

Harry nodded slowly, gazing out into the trees.

"Oh, by the way," she said, suddenly. "Are you going to tell me what _really_ happened when Ron destroyed the horcrux?"

He looked over at her. "What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It was nothing, Hermione, really. Nothing worth mentioning."

"Harry, I need to know," she insisted. "There's still three more horcruxes out there. I need to know what we're up against."

The expression on Harry's face was hard to read. It seemed as if he were having some sort of internal struggle, but she thought she detected something else, as well. He almost looked uncomfortable.

"I mean I don't understand...is it...is it too gruesome or something? Because I can handle it. I'm not that delicate, you know," Hermione said, feeling slightly put out.

"No—no, Hermione, it's nothing like that," Harry replied.

"Then, what is it?" she asked, confused.

Harry exhaled loudly. "The locket affected Ron more than it did us. It fed upon all his insecurities, made them seem real to him...even if they weren't. So...when he tried destroying the horcrux, that's how it fought back. It made his fears come to life."

Hermione nodded slowly. "His fears? What...like spiders? Was it like a Boggart then?"

Harry shifted on his feet slightly. "Er...sort of, yeah. But like I said—it was more of his insecurities than his actual fears."

"Listen," he said suddenly, "It's not really my place to tell you all that happened. It was Ron's battle to fight...not mine."

"I understand, Harry," she said, quietly. "I just wanted to know—you know, for the future."

He nodded, looking away from her again. For some odd reason she felt as if he had been avoiding her eyes all morning, but perhaps she was just imagining things.

"Well, anyway, I'm going to go make breakfast," she said getting up swiftly.

But she stopped suddenly when she felt Harry touch her shoulder.

Ignoring the slight shiver that ran through her, she turned to look at him. "What is it?"

"Don't be too hard on him, will you?" he said, softly. "He really does regret everything."

"I can't make any promises," she said abruptly, turning to leave again.

"Hermione," Harry said, seriously.

She exhaled loudly. "I know that he regrets it. I knew from the second he left, that he'd regret it. But that doesn't change anything, Harry. He still left. So—so, I'm not just going to pretend like it never happened. He needs to learn a lesson. About friendship and loyalty and what that means," she said, emphatically.

"I'll forgive him," she continued in quieter tone. "I promise I will. It's just going to take some more time."

She was about to walk away again when she heard Harry speak up.

"He really cares about you."

Hermione stopped in her tracks. She looked over at Harry but he was intently staring at a tree in the distance.

"I-I'll keep that in mind," she replied, walking away before he could respond.

When she reached the tent, she made her way straight toward the kitchen, not even checking if Ron was awake yet. Her body mechanically went through the motions of making breakfast, but her mind was somewhere completely different.

She kept replaying Harry's words in her head, wondering what on earth could have elicited him to say such a thing. And what did he mean? Of course Ron cared about her. They were still friends, after all.

But then...perhaps he meant something different. Something more than friendship.

Hermione's stomach squirmed uncomfortably at the thought.

Did Harry think that Ron fancied her? Why would he possibly think that?

_Well, because it's true._

_We don't know that for sure._

_Pretty safe bet, though. _

Hermione's thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a knock on the kitchen door.

"Morning," came Ron's uncertain voice.

She gave him a fleeting look over her shoulder.

"Er...what are you up to?" he asked.

Hermione wordlessly held up a pan, before placing it noisily back down on the stove.

"Ah...well...do you need any help?"

She snorted loudly in derision.

"Listen, there's no need to get shirty with me," Ron said suddenly, a tinge of anger in his words.

Hermione slowly turned around, her arms crossed tightly around her chest with one eyebrow raised.

Ron gulped audibly and backed away.

"Right...sorry..." he said, faintly.

He hesitated by the door, as if contemplating whether or not he should just leave. But then he finally spoke up.

"Can't you just say something? Anything..." he said, looking desperate. "I'm sorry, Hermione. How many times do I have to tell you I'm sorry?"

She sighed impatiently. "What is it you're sorry about?"

Ron seemed too surprised at the fact that she had actually spoken to comprehend what her question meant.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"What is it you're sorry about?" she repeated.

"Well...leaving. I shouldn't have left you and Harry."

Hermione gave a humourless chuckle, and turned around so her back was facing him again.

"What? What did I say?" Ron exclaimed.

"Nothing."

"Hermione," he pleaded.

She brushed past him without a word, setting the plates down on the table.

"Look, I'm sorry about everything! I'm sorry for being a downright prat. I'm sorry for abandoning you. I'm sorry for all the nasty things I said. I'm just—I'm _sorry_, okay?"

"You promised me!" she exclaimed suddenly, placing the last plate on the table with extra force. "Don't you remember? You promised me that we would stay by Harry's side no matter what happened. You looked me straight in the eyes and you _promised_ me."

"Before that I was terrified," she continued, her voice shaking slightly. "I was terrified for Harry, but you made me believe everything would be okay. And I thought—as long as all three of us were together, everything would always be okay. But then you left! And suddenly it felt like everything was crumbling to pieces. For days, Harry and I barely said two words to each other. But it didn't matter because we both knew what the other was thinking. And do you want to know what that was? _Do you_?"

Ron remained deathly quiet.

"We started wondering if we could even trust each other, if we could depend on each other," Hermione said firmly. "Or would one of us just walk away. Was Harry going to decide that he could do everything on his own again and leave me, or would I decide that I had enough and start packing my bags like you did?"

"You tore us apart, Ron. You broke us down," she said, finally. "But even after all that, we still managed to put the pieces back together. And now...now I trust Harry more than any other person in this world."

He looked up at her, and they both stared into each other's eyes for a long moment.

And for the first time since Ron had returned, she saw just how truly sorry he was.

* * *

><p>Hermione sat by the fire, bundled up in about three jumpers, two of which she thought might have belonged to Harry or Ron. But it was too dark and too cold to be choosy.<p>

She had readily volunteered to take first watch tonight, if only to get away from the tense silence that always seemed to permeate the tent these days. Or at least, the tense silence whenever she and Ron were in a room together.

Save for the occasional 'bless you' and 'pardon', their interactions had been nothing short of nonexistent. And if she were being completely honest with herself, it was getting a bit tiring acting so angry all the time. The initial rage she'd felt towards him was slowly beginning to ebb away into sort of dull irritation at this point.

Hermione's ears perked up suddenly, hearing what sounded like hushed voices whispering. Realizing it was coming from the tent, she relaxed back into her seat.

However, the whispering was becoming more incessant, and she could clearly make out Harry's voice now.

"Just go," he urged.

"No way."

"Ron, go."

"It's not happening."

"Be a man!"

"I don't want to."

"Why not?" Harry demanded.

"Because I don't fancy having my head detached from my body!" Ron replied.

"It's _Hermione_, not a Hungarian Horntail."

Ron made an odd noise that sounded somewhere between a snort and a painful whine.

"For Merlin's sake, just _go_," Harry said, amidst Ron's protests.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw someone being pushed out of the tent and stumble toward her.

She looked up with a blank expression.

"Hi," Ron said, in a shaky voice.

"Hello."

His eyes opened wide and he turned around to give a thumbs-up signal at what she assumed was Harry hiding behind the flap of the tent.

She rolled her eyes before looking back up at him.

"Erm...can I sit?" Ron asked, hesitantly.

"It's not my forest," she shrugged.

Ron took that as a yes and plopped down on the ground across from her. "So, listen...er..."

She waited for him to continue, but he just sat there looking uncomfortable.

"I'm listening," she said, bluntly.

"Right..." he replied. Then gaining some resolve, he continued. "When I left...I wasn't thinking straight. And I know what you're going to say—when do I ever think, right? But...afterwards I did think. A lot. And the more I thought the more I hated myself. I wanted nothing more than to find you guys again, and to hear you yell and scream at me for what I'd done. Because I _deserved _it. And to be honest, I wasn't expecting Harry to forgive me so easily. But...that's just the type of bloke he is, I guess. He's a good person, Harry. A better friend than I'll ever be."

"And you, Hermione. Even though you physically and verbally attacked me," he continued with a small smile, "I deserved a hundred times worse than that. You were right about everything you said the other day. And I know I've told you a thousand times already—but I am _so sorry_."

"I know," Hermione replied quietly.

She grabbed a stick nearby and started moving the pieces of wood around in the fire, more out of wanting something to do than of actual necessity.

"Hermione," Ron said, suddenly, closing his hand around her wrist.

"What?"

He opened his mouth a couple of times to speak, but no words were coming out. "Blimey, I'm terrible at this," he muttered to himself.

"What is it, Ron?" she said, her voice less harsh then he'd heard in a while.

"I-I just wanted to say that...that—I didn't forget about that promise."

"Oh."

"I thought about it every day," he said quietly, staring at his trainers. "And about...everything I said to you. Before I left. I know I hurt you a lot and—and you don't deserve that, Hermione. You don't deserve that one bit."

Ron opened his mouth as if he wished to say more, but then visibly swallowed and stood up to leave.

"I haven't forgiven you," she called as he was walking away.

He froze in his tracks, his shoulders slumping in a dejected manner.

"But I will."

He didn't turn around, but she could see him take in a deep breath.

"Thank you," he choked out.

* * *

><p>Hermione sighed impatiently, tapping her fingers steadily on the table as she bit her lip.<p>

It just didn't add up.

She looked over at Harry, then back at the book. Then over at Harry. Then back at the book again.

Finally, she stood up from her chair and approached him.

"We need to talk."

Harry stared at her with confusion and what seemed like a hint of fear.

"What?" he said, apprehensively.

"I want to go and see Xenophilius Lovegood."

He visibly relaxed before appearing confused once more. "Er—why?"

Hermione took a deep breath, as though bracing herself, and then proceeded to explain that the mark she'd originally found in the _Tales of Beedle the Bard _seemed to be cropping up continuously around them.

"We can ask Mr. Lovegood. He was wearing the symbol at the wedding. I'm sure this is important, Harry!"

He seemed hesitant, though, looking out into the surrounding darkness, thinking. After a long pause he said, "Hermione, we don't need another Godric's Hollow. We talked ourselves into going there, and—"

"But it keeps appearing, Harry! A symbol that links Dumbledore, Grindlewald, and Godric's Hollow? I'm sure we ought to know about this!"

She stared into his face, willing him to trust her, but he was gritting his teeth, stubbornly looking away.

Finally, however, with the help of an adamant Ron, he agreed.

Later that night as they were preparing for bed and Ron was outside keeping first watch, Harry silently approached her so that they were standing side by side.

"I don't want anyone to get hurt," he said out of the corner of his mouth

She looked up at him with her brows furrowed. "Neither do I."

"Then why don't we just call this whole thing off," he practically begged, turning to face her.

"Harry—"

"It was my fault we went to Godric's Hollow, it was my fault that we followed Bathilda. I nearly got us both killed, Hermione," he stated, firmly.

"Well, if anything happens this time, we can blame it on me," she said airily, walking past him to get to the loo.

He moved quickly to block her path.

"I want to go alone," he stated.

"Sorry?"

"To see Mr. Lovegood," he replied. "I want to go alone."

Hermione blinked.

"So, we're back to this, are we?" she asked, smoothly.

"To what?"

"I think you know what," she responded.

"Hermione—"

"You think you can do this by yourself?" she asked, evenly. "You think you can find the horcruxes, destroy them, and still manage to stay alive? Because if you do, by all means, go ahead."

She gestured vaguely toward the door.

"Here, take my books," she said, making her way over to her bag. "You know what? Take everything. You never know what you might need."

She threw her beaded bag into his hands, making him stumble a bit from surprise.

"We should go tell Ron. He might be a bit miffed that he had to go and destroy that horcrux when you could have done it, though," Hermione continued in that same conversational tone.

"Stop."

She looked over her shoulder to see Harry intently staring at the bag in his hands.

"I never said I didn't need you," he stated, quietly. "For Merlin's sake, Hermione, I would've died ages ago, if it wasn't for you. I'm not that thick, you know."

"So then why do you insist on going alone again?" she demanded.

"Because I don't want to put either of you in any more danger than you already are. You could've died last time, Hermione. _Died._"

"You seem to forget that I was the one who had to nurse _you_ back to life," she bit back.

"Well it could have just as easily been the other way around," Harry argued.

"I'd sure hope not. My life resting in your hands?" she said, sardonically. "Why don't you learn what a healing charm is first, and then we can talk."

He stared at her. "That was low."

Hermione pursed her lips into a thin line. "Sorry," she muttered, grudgingly.

Harry sighed loudly, running a hand through his hair. "Why are you being so...malicious, anyway?"

"Because, Harry," she said, fervently. "I'm tired of you trying to protect us. We don't _need_ protection. Especially not from you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, suddenly.

"It means that you have to worry about yourself right now. Not us," she said, softly. "I promise you, we can take care of ourselves."

There was a long pause of silence, and then finally, Harry nodded.

"And besides," Hermione continued, "we're just going to the man's house. What's the worst that could go wrong?"

...

"That treacherous old bleeder!" Ron exclaimed, as they all fell panting onto the grass in the corner of a field.

Hermione immediately stood up, running in a circle around them, and casting the necessary enchantments.

When she was finished she turned back around to face Harry and Ron.

"What's the worst that could go wrong, eh?" Harry said in a weak voice.

* * *

><p>The whole fiasco at the Lovegood house had been nothing short of pointless, in Hermione's opinion. And she was prepared to take full responsibility for it. The only problem was, Harry seemed to think otherwise.<p>

Ever since they had escaped, he had been adamant about discussing these Deathly Hallows. It was maddening. It was as if he'd completely forgotten everything they'd been doing and everything they were supposed to be doing.

What about the horcruxes? What about their mission? What about ending this godforsaken war? Did he suddenly just forget about all of that?

She hated it when he got like this. When he would become so absorbed with one thing that he would forget about the world around him. It was just like sixth year all over again. And sure, in the end he was right about all that. But this was different. Dumbledore _told _him what he needed to do. Surely he would have mentioned these Hallows if they were so important? Wouldn't he? _Wouldn't he?_

Hermione groaned loudly, dropping her face into her hands. She never dreamed that there would come a day when she would miss talking about horcruxes.

_Life was simpler then..._ she thought dryly.

"Hermione! Hermione, I got it!" Ron exclaimed suddenly.

He had been seated next to the wireless for the past hour, attempting to find the correct password to get onto _Potterwatch._

He called Harry into the tent as well, and the three of them sat around the little radio excitedly, listening to voices other than their own for the first time in months.

It filled her with such an extraordinary sense of hope to hear the familiar voices of friends. To know that they weren't alone. That people all around them were fighting this war as well.

Hermione quickly wiped away a few tears that had escaped her eyes. "It's so brave of them," she said admiringly. "If they were found..."

"Well, they keep on the move, don't they?" said Ron. "Like us."

"But did you hear what Fred said?" asked Harry excitedly. "He's abroad! He's still looking for the Wand, I knew it!"

"Harry—"

"Come on, Hermione, why are you so determined not to admit it? Vol—"

"HARRY, NO!"

"—demort's after the Elder Wand!"

"The name's Taboo!" Ron bellowed, leaping to his feet as a loud crack sounded outside the tent.

Hermione felt as if a ton of bricks had suddenly been dropped in her stomach. And then she heard the voices, voices ordering them to come out with their hands up.

_They'll recognize Harry in a heartbeat! _

She instantly whipped her wand out and pointed it at Harry's face, uttering the first spell that came to mind.

A burst of white light shot out, and she could see him buckle in agony, his face swelling rapidly with blisters.

Hermione closed her eyes, taking a shuddering breath in. She silently prayed that they would all stay alive long enough for her to be able to apologize for that later.

But all too soon, unknown hands grabbed her around the waist, pulling her roughly from inside the tent. It was too dark to see a face, but the putrid smell of metal and blood immediately reached her nostrils and she had to fight the urge to gag repeatedly.

She could just see Harry being shoved to the ground and Ron wrestling against his captor. There was the unmistakable sound of knuckles hitting flesh and Ron grunted in pain.

"Leave him alone!" Hermione screamed.

She let out a light gasp as the arms around her tightened painfully.

"Your boyfriend's going to have worse than that done to him if he's on my list," said the rasping voice in her ear.

She shivered uncontrollably as the realization struck her.

It was Fenrir Greyback.

"Delicious girl...What a treat...I do enjoy the softness of the skin..."

Hermione's stomach turned over and she very nearly vomited all over her shoes. The smell was becoming too much, his voice prickled uncomfortably in her ears, she needed to get away. _She needed to get away. _

In a sudden movement, Greyback cast her to the ground next to Harry, and they were soon joined by Ron, as well. She had never breathed in a breath as fondly as she did at that moment.

The Snatchers questioned each of them in turn, but they seemed to linger longest on Harry.

Hermione's heart was beating so fast, she thought it might explode out of her chest any second.

_They can't know it's Harry, they can't know it's Harry. Please don't let them know it's Harry! Please!_

"What's that on your forehead?" Greyback asked Harry softly, as he pressed a filthy finger to the taut scar.

"Don't touch it!" Harry yelled, suddenly.

Hermione turned to look at him fearfully. She could tell by the sickened look on his face that his scar was currently causing him excruciating pain.

She bit her lip, silently continuing the desperate mantra in her head.

"I thought you wore glasses, Potter?" breathed Greyback.

"I found glasses!" yelped one of the Snatchers.

The werewolf seized them immediately and rammed them onto Harry's face.

"It is!" rasped Greyback. "We've caught Potter!"

Hermione forced back the tears that were threatening to spill from her eyes. She was beginning to feel light-headed and white spots were clouding her vision.

They would take Harry...they would take him and they would kill him. Just like that.

Just like that...

They would kill him...

_NO! No, stop it! Stop thinking like that! We'll get through it, we always do. We'll get through it._

_I can't lose Harry..._

_Please..._

_Please not Harry..._

The most painful lump was forming in the back of Hermione's throat, but she fought endlessly to gulp it back down.

"They say he's using the Malfoy's place as a base. We'll take the boy there," came Greyback's voice, cutting through her thoughts.

"And what about the rest of 'em, what'll we do with 'em?"

"Might as well take the lot. We've got two Mudbloods, that's another ten Galleons," said Greyback. "Grab hold and make it tight. I'll do Potter!"

Hermione saw him seize a fistful of Harry's hair with his long, yellow nails and she wanted nothing more in the world than to shoot the most powerful curse in that filth's direction.

But she felt someone take hold of her as well, and within seconds they had Disapparated away.

* * *

><p>Hermione had always prided herself on her innate logic. She made sense of things, and she liked for things to make sense.<p>

But sometimes it wasn't that simple. Sometimes things were illogical.

For example, for the life of her Hermione couldn't understand why Draco Malfoy had not identified Harry to the Death Eaters.

It would have been so easy. He would have surely been rewarded. He would have lost nothing and gained everything.

And yet...he chose not to.

And now, as Hermione stood within the clutches of Bellatrix Lestrange, she was faced with one of the most illogical moments of her life.

Because none of it made any sense.

"Where did you get that sword?" Bellatrix hissed, clutching Hermione roughly by the hair.

"I-I don't know," she choked out. "We just found it."

Bellatrix snarled, throwing Hermione swiftly to the ground.

Her body met the cold, hard stone floor with a thud and she let out a small grunt of pain.

"You think that hurt, Mudblood?" Bellatrix whispered, kneeling down so her face was centimetres from Hermione's. "_Crucio!"_

Hermione immediately let out a blood-curdling scream as every nerve in her body exploded with fire. It was the worst pain she had ever felt in her life, and no matter how much she twisted and jerked, absolutely nothing could bring her any sort of relief. She clawed her nails into the ground and bit her tongue until it bled. She was just starting to see black spots in front of her eyes when as suddenly as it had begun, the pain stopped.

Hermione was panting heavily and every single muscle of her body was throbbing like mad.

"Did that loosen your tongue, Granger?" Bellatrix said, with a wild look in her eyes. "I'm going to ask you again! Where did you get that sword? _Where?_"

"We found it—we found it—PLEASE!" she screamed.

"You are lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth, _tell the truth!"_

Bellatrix shot another _Crucio_ that seemed a thousand times more painful than the first one, making Hermione scream even louder in agony.

"What else did you take? What else have you got? Tell me the truth or I swear, I shall run you through with this knife!"

Hermione felt tears streaming down her face as wracking sobs began to take over her body. "_I didn't_," she whispered erratically, "_I didn't_!"

All of a sudden, Bellatrix grabbed her arm, shoving her sleeve up roughly. She grabbed what looked like a silver dagger and a wild gleam erupted in her eyes.

"PLEASE!" Hermione pleaded, her face wet with tears and her throat constricting painfully.

But as the dagger made contact with her flesh, Hermione screamed so loud, she nearly choked on her own tears. She pounded her free fist to the ground and starting kicking her legs, trying desperately to free herself.

She couldn't see, she couldn't think, she couldn't breathe.

Again and again Bellatrix tortured her, and each curse seemed to be even more painful the last. The blood that was steadily dripping from her arm kept showering her in the face as she thrashed about on the ground.

She continued to sob agonizingly, as she begged like a small child for it to stop.

_Make it stop!_

_MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP!_

It was all too much.

She couldn't...she couldn't...

_I want to die..._

_Let me die... _

_Please...please..._

Hermione vaguely heard the sounds of new voices enter the room, but she didn't have the energy to open her eyes.

There was shouting, a lot of shouting, but it made no sense to her.

None of it made any sense.

Any sense at all...

* * *

><p>AN: Thank you all for being patient with me, I know I've been horrible at updating and I apologize deeply! And thank you so much to everyone who read and reviewed last chapter. I really appreciate it so much and I absolutely love hearing what you guys have to say. Good things, bad things, suggestions, it all makes my day because I know you took that extra time to write something so thank you again! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I wish you a very happy day :)


	33. Chapter 33

_Luna and I...we didn't always agree. We didn't always see eye to eye. Most of the time we were on completely different ends of the spectrum. And yet, there were times when she understood me better than I understood myself. _

_Through all her craziness, you tended to forget just how uncannily intelligent she really was. _

_I was always good with facts, details, and logic. But Luna...she was different. Unlike any other person I'd_ _ever met. She had this remarkable ability to pick up on a person's feelings. It was instantaneous. It was effortless. And it was very nearly always correct. _

_She just saw the world differently than most people. The world and everyone in it. _

_It's a shame that it took me so long to appreciate her. When we first met, I was young and foolish, deluded into thinking that every question always had one answer. That every problem always had one solution. But Luna didn't think that. Maybe that's what unnerved me so much. _

_Her intelligence was different than mine. It always has been. _

_I'm logic. But Luna...Luna is wisdom. _

* * *

><p>Hermione opened her eyes blearily, the unfamiliar room around her slowly coming into focus. She had absolutely no idea where she was and was starting to feel slightly panicked.<p>

"You're awake," said a dreamy voice.

Hermione noticed the small form of Luna perched on a window sill across the room.

"Luna?" she asked, her voice feeling unnaturally raspy. "Where are we?"

The girl walked over to her, an uncharacteristically serious look on her face.

"Shell Cottage," Luna answered. "Bill and Fleur Weasley's home."

"Why? Where are Harry and Ron?"

"Well, we've escaped and...they're outside," she replied, simply.

Hermione knitted her eyebrows in confusion. Her brain still felt foggy and she couldn't seem to remember what had brought them here.

"Escaped...?"

Luna gazed at her with a concerned expression as she edged her way nearer to the bed. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but was cut off immediately by Hermione's sudden gasp.

"_Oh God_," she whispered, horrified. "_Oh God!"_

The memories of Malfoy Manor were suddenly flashing before her eyes in nauseating clarity, and she wished nothing more than to have remained ignorant of it all. The high ceiling and stone walls ambushed her vision, Bellatrix's shouts rang in her ears, her left arm throbbed with a shooting pain, and Hermione wanted to scream and cry and yell just to drown it all out.

Putting a hand to her mouth, she fought to hold back the sob that threatened to escape her lips. And with shaking fingers, she carefully lifted up the sleeve of the gown she had somehow changed into, and immediately let out a long, strangled moan.

There, etched permanently into her skin, was the word: _Mudblood._

"It's okay to cry," Luna said, gently, placing a hand on her back.

Hermione looked up, nearly forgetting Luna was there and shook her head stubbornly, still covering her mouth, as if afraid something might spew out if she wasn't careful.

She didn't want to cry. She _couldn't_ cry. Because crying meant releasing. It meant undoing. But she wasn't ready to be undone.

"Hermione..." Luna said, hesitantly.

But Hermione would not relent. She stayed in that position for a long while, eyes shut and breathing in long, deep breaths through her nose, trying to make the shaky feeling in her entire body subside.

She heard someone enter the room a while after, but didn't register it until she felt a slight indentation on the bed as they sat down.

"Hermione," said a soft voice.

She opened her eyes and saw Ron staring at her in deep concern. He brought his hand to her face, and carefully removed her own from atop her mouth.

Hermione stared at him with a lifeless sort of expression, her eyes glazed and her face white. She vaguely noticed Luna get up and exit the room, leaving the two of them alone.

"Fleur said you were sleeping," Ron stated, quietly.

Hermione nodded in affirmation.

"I came in to check anyway," he continued. "How are you?"

"Fine," she said, automatically.

"Are you in any pain?" he asked.

"My arm hurts a bit," she stated, vacantly.

Ron quickly stood up. "I'll get you something for it. Fleur made a few potions earlier—"

"Ron," she interrupted smoothly, "I don't want anything. I just...I just want to get some more sleep, if that's all right."

"Of course," he responded, earnestly. "But...are you sure? I mean, I could just—"

"I'm sure," she stated. "I'm just feeling a bit tired, is all."

Ron nodded, slowly. "Okay. But if you need anything..."

"I know."

He nodded again before exiting the room.

Hermione lay back down on the bed, turning on her side so she was facing the wall. She knew Ron meant well, but she was simply in no mood to entertain his presence at the moment, or anyone's really.

She just wanted to be alone.

True to her word, she did feel rather tired. But it was less of a drowsiness and more of an all around exhaustion. While her body no longer ached, every muscle felt stiff and uncomfortable, as if she hadn't stretched in ages.

And even though she desperately wished not to see it again, her eyes travelled as if by invisible force to the fresh, red scar on her arm.

"Mudblood," she whispered to herself.

_Mudblood._

_Mudblood._

_Mudblood..._

Hermione stared at the blank wall, mentally repeating this one word in her mind endlessly until it started sounding bizarre to her.

Completely and utterly bizarre...

And as her eyes slowly drifted shut, she wondered vaguely how everyone else did not see just how completely and utterly bizarre it truly was.

* * *

><p>Hermione could feel the heat of the early morning sun beating against her eyelids, but she kept them shut for as long as possible. She wasn't ready to wake up yet, and tried hopelessly to force her body back to sleep. But she was fighting a losing battle.<p>

Exhaling softly, she slowly opened her eyes to the bright morning sunlight. However, it was not the sun that initially greeted her, but rather two pairs of deep, emerald orbs.

Harry was sitting on a chair next to her bed, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared intently at her. However, when he saw that she had awoken, he immediately sat back.

"Sorry," he said. "Did I startle you?"

Hermione shook her head, sitting up against the pillows.

"How did you sleep?" he asked.

"With a bed and covers," Hermione replied, her attempt at a joke failing slightly due to the hollowness of her tone.

"How are you honestly, Hermione?"

The words 'I'm fine' were at the tip of her tongue, but she bit them back and turned to stare blankly out the window, instead.

"I don't know," she replied, quietly. "I feel tired, I suppose."

Harry waited patiently for her continue, but she couldn't seem to form any more words.

"Well...do you want to talk about it?" he asked, hesitantly.

Hermione looked at him and she could see a quiet distress in his eyes. She knew he was trying to maintain his calm composure in front of her, much like she was trying to as well.

But in reality, she wasn't calm. She was terrified and miserable and angry and every time she closed her eyes, she could see Bellatrix's face and she could hear her own voice screaming and pleading for it to all end.

She had never felt so helpless. She had never wished so ardently to just _die_. And never in her entire life, did she resent so bitterly the magical blood that ran through her veins.

Hermione felt a single tear roll down her cheek as the last thought resonated loudly in her mind.

_Resent my magic?_

_My magic..._

_Everything I am..._

_If I weren't a Mudblood, none of this would have ever happened. _

_If I was just a muggle, if I had lived a normal life, if that letter never came..._

"No," she whispered suddenly. "No."

Her mind was reeling as she fought to push these terrible thoughts away.

"No," she uttered again in a louder voice, her entire body trembling.

She felt a strong, reassuring arm wrap firmly around her shoulders. And just like that, all the tears she had been pushing away suddenly rushed forth as if an invisible dam in her eyes had just broken.

Hermione grabbed a fistful of Harry's shirt and buried her head into his chest, holding on as if for dear life and crying tears of frustration and grief for what felt like hours or maybe years.

She didn't want to feel like this anymore, she didn't want to feel less than anyone, she didn't want to feel ashamed.

Magic wasn't a gift to her; it wasn't something she should have to be grateful for or indebted to. It was her _birthright._ It was who she was. And she was proud of who she was! Proud of being a muggle-born and a _bloody brilliant_ witch.

Glancing down at the scar on her arm, Hermione gritted her teeth roughly.

_Mudblood._

_Mudblood and proud._

"Harry," she mumbled, into his now dampened shirt.

_It doesn't matter._

_It doesn't matter._

_It doesn't matter!_

Sitting up so that they were facing each other, she wiped the lingering tears from her face before continuing.

"It doesn't matter anymore," she said quietly. "It doesn't matter to me, anyway."

As Harry stared at her, she could see that there was no need for further explanation. He understood.

Wordlessly, he reached for the sleeve of her left arm, lifting up the thin fabric with gentle fingers. But as the dreadful red inscription became visible, the breath instantly caught in his throat.

Hermione saw his eyes begin to glisten as he continued to stare at it.

"It doesn't matter," she repeated in a firm voice.

Harry shifted his gaze to her face, and she saw again that same look of distress.

"Hermione..."

She brought her hand up to his forehead, moving a lock of hair aside.

"It's just a scar, Harry," she said, brushing his own lightly with her finger.

"But it lasts forever," he uttered.

"I know," she stated, feeling a slight twinge in her chest despite herself. "I should start getting used to it then, shouldn't I?"

A ghost of a smile appeared on Harry's face. And before she could even register what was happening, he leaned over and placed a feather-light kiss on her forehead.

The spot where his lips had touched burned with a pleasant tingling sensation, and she had to look away from his piercing green eyes in order to steady her pulse once more.

After all the emptiness she had been feeling, this new, very different emotion hit her much harder than usual.

But then, maybe it had nothing to do with the emptiness at all. Maybe Harry's lips would always have this effect on her, no matter the situation. If only one day she could find out...

Hermione internally scoffed.

_Yeah...one day. In another life, perhaps. _

"I promised to tell the others when you woke up," Harry started. "But I can stay if you want."

"No, it's fine. I should be getting out of this bed, anyway," she replied.

"You don't have to, you know."

"I know, Harry," Hermione assured him. "But I want to. I can't keep locking myself away in this room forever."

He nodded slowly, and then looked up at her. "Do you feel any better?"

Hermione stared down at her hands and fiddled with the bedding thoughtfully before answering. "I suppose I do," she said, finally. "I mean, I couldn't even think about it at first. I still prefer not to, of course, but...it's a little easier now."

"And it'll keep getting easier," Harry assured her.

She paused, her eyebrows creased in thought. "Are you just saying that or do you really believe it?"

"Of course I believe it," he replied, looking slightly taken aback at her question. "You're already handling this infinitely times better than I ever could. You always do."

"Well, I don't know about that," she admitted, "But...thank you."

"And sorry about your shirt," she added, gesturing toward the large tear-stained blotch on his chest.

"That's the least of my worries, Hermione," he said with a smile.

She attempted a smile in return, but the action felt foreign on her muscles and came out as a sort of grimace instead.

Harry exhaled softly as he stood up to leave. He had a troubled expression plastered on his face and worry lines etched into his forehead.

She recognized his demeanour all too well.

"Let me know if you need anything, all right?" he said, heading towards the door.

"Well, there is one thing," Hermione said suddenly, causing Harry to stop in his tracks.

He turned around with a questioning look on his face.

"I need you to not blame yourself for what happened."

Harry paused, looking like he wasn't quite sure how to respond.

"Please," she said. "Just try."

"But, it's my fau—"

"_Please_," she repeated, cutting him off. "Maybe you'll never believe me. But I'll keep repeating it for as long it takes you to understand. It's. Not. Your. Fault."

Harry stared at her with his eyebrows furrowed as if concentrating on something difficult.

"Just say you'll try," she pleaded.

He visibly swallowed.

"I'll try," he stated quietly.

"Thank you."

Hermione watched him leave the room, leaning her head back against the headboard.

Maybe he never realized how much it pained her to see him like this. To see him eat himself up over every single thing that went wrong. Maybe if he did know, he would stop.

If only it were that simple. To just...stop.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. But the matted, knotty feeling beneath her fingers made her grimace slightly. She knew she desperately needed a shower, but something about facing her reflection in the mirror filled her with a sudden apprehension. And she couldn't really explain why.

Nevertheless, Hermione was just about to get out of bed when she heard a soft knock on the door.

"Come in," she said, wearily.

"Are you sure?" called the voice behind the door.

"Yes..."

"I just wanted to be certain," Luna said, appearing in the room. "You didn't sound too pleased to be having another visitor."

Hermione gave the girl a soft smile. "I wasn't," she answered honestly. "But I've changed my mind. Have a seat."

Luna complied, sitting herself cross-legged on the edge of the bed. "Your eyes are red. Have you been crying?" she asked with wonder.

Hermione wiped away at her eyes self-consciously, but Luna immediately stopped her.

"No, no. That's good. You _should_ cry," she insisted.

"Why?" Hermione asked bluntly, prepared to hear an answer that involved wrackspurts or dingbobs or the like.

But that answer never came.

"We have to shed our tears in order to see properly," Luna stated.

Hermione stared her.

"Well, I think I've shed enough tears to last a lifetime," she responded, quietly.

Luna smiled. "And can you see now?"

She considered this question for a long time. She thought about what had caused her so much pain to begin with. What had caused her to break down into Harry's arms and cry those endless tears.

The idea of being less than someone. Simply because of her blood. Because of something that she couldn't even control. The grief over knowing that no matter how hard she worked or how powerful she became, she would still be nothing in the eyes of some people.

But just as she repeated continuously in her mind not too long ago, _it didn't matter. _

None of it mattered. Not anymore.

Yes, she could see that now.

"I've never been more proud to be a muggleborn," Hermione stated finally, causing Luna to beam in delight.

"Well, now it's settled," Luna said, still smiling from ear to ear.

"What is?"

"You really are the brightest witch of your age," the girl declared.

Hermione felt herself blush slightly from the compliment, and she was surprised to hear a small laugh escape her lips. Her heart felt lighter somehow after her proclamation.

"Thank you," she said softly. "I think it's pretty safe to say you're the brightest of your age, as well."

"That's awfully nice of you to say, Hermione," Luna said, sincerely.

"Well, it is the truth," she replied.

"Maybe, but even so..."

Luna stared at the wall vaguely for a moment, as if pondering something. "Is there anything else?" she asked, unexpectedly.

"What do you mean?" Hermione said, confused.

"Anything else that you see now...that you didn't see before?"

She thought about this for a moment, wondering what on earth Luna could possibly mean. But she couldn't seem to figure it out.

"I don't think so..." Hermione answered, uncertainly.

"Oh," she replied simply. "Well then, I should be going now."

Hermione watched in bewilderment as the girl stood up swiftly from the bed and started heading toward the door.

"Wait!" she called after her.

"Yes?" Luna asked, turning around.

"Well—what did you mean by that? What else is there for me to see?"

Luna seemed to be considering this question for a long while before answering. "I don't know...I suppose I just find it strange that you couldn't cry in front of Ron and I, but with Harry..." she paused, shifting her head sideways in thought. "You're comfortable in front of him."

"I am," Hermione agreed.

"You're quite lucky, then. It's not easy to find comfort in another's presence."

"I know. Luna, I..."

But Hermione couldn't seem to finish her sentence. She was quickly beginning to realize just what Luna was referring to. Little did the girl know, however, that she was about two and half years late.

"I..." she began once more. But again, she just couldn't seem to find the words.

It felt strange. She'd never told anyone, never even thought of telling anyone. The only person who knew was her mother and she had managed to guess it herself.

So how could she tell Luna? Dreamy, loopy, wistful Luna. That she, Hermione Granger, was in love with her best friend.

What would she say? What would she think? Would she tell him? Would she tell anyone?

_Do I tell her, do I not tell her, do I tell her, do I not tell her..._

_Tell her. _

_No._

_Why not? You have to tell someone! You can't keep holding this in forever, Granger. You'll explode!_

_But..._

_Tell her._

"There is something else," Hermione announced finally. "But, it's something I've been able to see for a while now."

Luna waited patiently for her to continue.

But she couldn't seem to be able to. Her heart was beating abnormally fast, her throat was dry, her palms were sweaty.

"Hermione—"

"I love him," Hermione uttered, suddenly. But she immediately threw a hand over her mouth as if she'd said something wrong.

_I just told Luna. _

_Luna knows. _

Someone _knows..._

_Why isn't she saying anything? Why isn't she freaking out? _

"Did you hear me?" Hermione asked hesitantly, bringing her hand down to her side.

"Of course I heard you," Luna responded.

"Well...why aren't you saying anything?"

"What would you like me to say?"

Hermione opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. "Say _something!_" she said, beginning to feel frustrated.

"You've never told anyone before, have you?" Luna asked, with her eyes wide.

"No...no, I haven't."

"Why not?"

Hermione sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I guess I'm just afraid of how people will react—namely Harry."

"And do you think he'd react badly?" Luna asked, as if she was genuinely interested in Hermione's answer.

She pondered this for a moment. Some alternate universe where Harry knew about her feelings. Of course, he'd be kind and gracious as usual. He'd try and make sure she never felt uncomfortable or embarrassed because of it. And he would always do his best to treat her normally.

She knew that. It wasn't very hard to guess.

But she also knew that in this alternate universe, Harry would forever be filled with guilt because he could not return her feelings. Because he knew that he was causing her pain. And if there was one thing in the world Harry hated, it was being the cause of someone's pain.

"No, he wouldn't," Hermione answered, finally. "But maybe that's the problem."

Luna gazed at her with a dreamy sort of expression, as if she hadn't been paying attention to what she'd just said.

But Hermione knew better. She'd understood. Perhaps not fully, but she'd understood.

"I think it's time for me to take that shower now," Hermione declared after a long bout of silence.

Luna appeared to be watching her carefully as she got out of bed and grabbed the pile of clothing on the bedside table. She was just about to exit the room when a dreamy voice stopped her.

"But you don't quite see fully, do you?"

Hermione came to a halt by the door and turned around with a frown on her face. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Luna walked slowly over to Hermione, her radish earrings swinging gracefully with each step she took.

"Well, Harry never did leave your side the entire night, did he?" Luna asked. "Strange..."

And with that, she walked past Hermione and all but sashayed into the corridor.

* * *

><p>"Are you sure you're okay with this?"<p>

"No, but it's too late now, isn't it?"

A sudden gust of wind blew several strands of black hair into Hermione's face causing her to recoil in disgust. She tried to forget that she was currently trapped in Bellatrix Lestrange's body, but somehow she kept being forcibly reminded of it.

"Ron, could you please stop looking at me like that!" she muttered, crossly.

"Like what?"

"Like I'm a rotten piece of meat with fleas on it."

"Well, in all fairness you do look pretty revolting," Harry offered.

She groaned. "Let's just get this over with. I don't know if I can stand one more minute in her body."

But Hermione's desire was fulfilled all too soon. As she stood in the depths of Gringotts, sopping wet and spluttering for air, she immediately noticed Harry's face contort into horror.

"The Thief's Downfall!" said Griphook, clambering to his feet. "It washes away all enchantment, all magical concealment! They know there are impostors in Gringotts, they have set off defences against us!"

Hermione instantly looked over at Ron who was once again red-haired and beardless. She lifted a hand up to her face, and sure enough, she was back in her own body again, as well.

_Why do things never go as planned? _her mind practically screamed.

Her heart was pounding furiously in her chest as she heard the sound of voices approaching behind the waterfall.

"_Protego!"_ she cried, breaking the flow of the enchanted water as it flew up the passageway.

"Good thinking," came Harry's voice behind her. "Lead the way Griphook!"

And on they clambered through the dark, dank tunnels until at last they turned the corner that led to deepest vaults of Gringotts. And as they stood in front of the Lestrange's open vault, Hermione couldn't help but stand stunned for a moment.

Never in her life had she seen so much gold and silver compacted into this small of a vicinity. It nearly hurt her eyes to look at it. How in Merlin's name were they supposed to find the Cup among all this?

"Search, fast!" came Harry's voice, shaking her out of her stupor.

She shook her head and quickly began her search. It had only been a few minutes when she spotted a jewelled goblet on a shelf nearby, causing her heart to skip a beat.

"Harry, could this be—? Aargh!"

She instantly screamed as a searing, hot pain met her fingers. The goblet tumbled from her grip and fell to the ground, and to her shock multiplied into several identical goblets, rolling in every direction.

"It burned me!" she exclaimed.

"Everything you touch will burn and multiply, but the copies are worthless," said Griphook. "And if you continue to handle the treasure, you will eventually be crushed to death by the weight of expanding gold!"

Harry, Ron and Hermione all stared at each for a moment.

"Okay, don't touch anything!" shouted Harry, desperately.

But even as he said it, Ron accidentally nudged one of the fallen goblets with his foot, and twenty more exploded into being.

The entire mission was beginning to feel slightly impossible as more and more pieces of metal filled the already cramped room, burning each of them in different spots every time.

The temperature of the room as a whole seemed to be steadily increasing as well, and Hermione was finding it harder and harder to breathe in fulfilling breaths. She didn't even want to think about what would meet them when they left the vault or how in the world they were going to escape.

"_It's there, it's up there!"_ Harry shouted, suddenly.

"And how the hell are we going to get up there without touching anything?" asked Ron.

Harry appeared at a loss and turned to look hopelessly at Hermione, as if begging for her to provide the answer.

She bit her lip. Her pulse was beating madly in her ears and she felt her stomach clench uncomfortably with fear, but she tried her best to ignore it all.

_Think, think, think! _

"Hermione," said Harry desperately, as the clanking grew louder, "I've got to get up there, we've got to get rid of it!"

_Get up there, get up there..._

_Of course!_

She raised her wand, pointed it at Harry, and whispered, "_Levicorpus."_

Hoisted into the air by his ankle, Harry immediately thrust the sword in his hands through the handle of Hufflepuff's cup, hooking it onto the blade.

But in the process of doing so, he hit a suit of armour, causing the replicas to burst out like white-hot bodies, filling the already cramped space. Now every time Harry, Ron, and Hermione came into contact with something, the new burn seemed to scald their bodies even more.

Then all at once, the entrance of the vault opened and Hermione felt herself sliding uncontrollably on an expanding avalanche of fiery gold and silver that bore her, Harry, and Ron into the outer chamber.

"This way!" Harry yelled, sprinting toward the blind dragon.

"Harry—Harry—what are you doing?" she cried, genuinely wondering if he'd gone mad.

"Get up, climb up, come on!"

Hermione stared helplessly around the open chamber, but there was simply no other way out.

Swallowing hard and feeling like her heart was about to leap into her throat, she hoisted herself up behind Harry on the dragon's back with Ron clambering up behind her.

And just like that, the dragon burst through the ceiling of Gringotts, staggered into Diagon Alley and launched itself into the sky.

* * *

><p>It all happened so fast.<p>

One minute they were on a dragon's back, the next they were heading to Hogsmeade. And now...now they were in Hogwarts.

And as Neville pushed open the door at the end of the unfamiliar tunnel, a block of sound instantly met their ears.

"Look who it is! Didn't I tell you?"

"HARRY!"

"It's Potter, it's POTTER!"

"Ron! _Hermione!"_

Before she could even take one step, Hermione was engulfed, hugged, pounded on the back, her hair was ruffled, her hand was being shaken. She tried to look for Harry and Ron among the crowd, but they two were facing similar fates.

It was quite overwhelming to say the least, and for a moment she wanted very much just return back to the quiet tunnel where they'd come from. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd been in a room with this many people. And while she was more than thrilled to see everyone, it was taking her a bit longer than expected to adjust to it all.

Slowly, however, a warm sort of bubble seemed to be expanding within her. It felt like centuries since she'd last seen these people. Her classmates...her friends. And it wasn't until this moment that Hermione realized just how much her heart had been aching for them.

Their voices, their touch, their joy filled her with a newfound hope. They weren't alone anymore.

"They can help," she heard Ron say quietly to her left. "We don't know where it is. We've got to find it fast. We don't have to tell them it's a Horcrux."

Harry was looking between her and Ron uncertainly.

"I think Ron's right," she stated. "We don't even know what we're looking for, we need them."

But he still appeared unconvinced.

Hermione looked him straight in the eyes, her hand resting on his arm. "You don't have to do everything alone, Harry."

Harry visibly swallowed, turning his head to stare at the expectant faces before him.

"All right," he said quietly.

She squeezed his arm gently, before letting go.

"Okay," he called to the room at large, and all noise ceased. "There's something we need to find."

She watched in silent wonder as Harry commanded the attention of every single person in the room. He could have told them to do anything, and they would have given their entire lives. Because they trusted him and believed in him.

Hermione wasn't quite sure when it happened. When he changed from a boy to a man. But somewhere along the way he did. And it never ceased to amaze her.

Looking up at him then, she couldn't help the gentle smile that seemed to form on her lips. But at that moment, she also felt a strange sort of tingling sensation on the back of her neck as if someone was watching her.

Turning her head slightly to the side, her eyes instantly locked with Luna's. There was a small grin plastered on her face. And just before shifting her gaze away, she did something Hermione had never seen her do before: she winked at her.

* * *

><p>AN: Like always, I'm terribly sorry for the long wait :( I hope you guys can still be patient with me! Especially since we're very close to the end of this whole Phase One ordeal. There's going to be one more chapter of Book 7 and then it's my free reign from there so yay! That should be exciting! I really really hope you guys liked this chapter, it took obnoxiously long to write so it better be worth it. As always, thank you so very much for reading, have an awesome day!


	34. Chapter 34

_It's strange how sometimes, the best and worst day of your life are one in the same. _

_That day I thought I'd lost everything. And I could never explain that feeling in words. But I suppose it's sufficient to say that at that moment, I wished that I was dead. _

_I think it was Dumbledore who once said that we shouldn't pity the dead, we should pity the living. _

_No truer words have ever been spoken. _

* * *

><p>Hermione and Ron sat, waiting on edge for Harry to return from Ravenclaw Tower.<p>

"We should have gone with him," she said, biting her nail furiously. "What if something happens? Something _always_ happens."

"Just try and relax, okay? I'm sure he's fine," Ron replied.

"But—the Carrows. And Snape...What if he gets caught?" she asked breathlessly.

"He won't," Ron said, trying to reassure her. "He's got the Cloak _and_ the Map. He'd have to be a complete idiot to get caught."

Hermione nodded, but continued to chew at her nails with vigour.

"I don't even get a 'hello,' then?" said a sudden voice behind her.

Ron and Hermione looked up simultaneously to see the face of Ginny Weasley staring down at them.

"Ginny!" they both exclaimed, momentarily forgetting their worries as they engulfed her into a hug.

It felt like centuries since Hermione had last seen her, and a nostalgic sense of warmth seemed to instantly overwhelm her as she looked into the girl's familiar brown eyes.

"You have no idea how much I've missed you two prats," Ginny said, after letting go of Ron. "And I shouldn't, mind you. I should be furious. How could leave without even saying goodbye?"

Ron looked at her guiltily. "We didn't mean to Ginny, honestly."

"Then why did you do it?"

"It was the only choice we had," Hermione insisted. "They were coming for Harry. If we'd stayed even a second longer you would have all been in danger."

Ron nodded his head vigorously in agreement, causing Ginny to roll her eyes. She didn't say anything for a moment, but crossed her arms in obvious dissatisfaction. "Mum was devastated," she muttered quietly, looking away.

The unspoken _'so was I'_ lingered at the end of her sentence, and Hermione couldn't help but feel her own guilt well up inside of her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, staring into the girl's glassy looking eyes.

"Me too, Gin," Ron spoke up.

Ginny wiped at her eyes surreptitiously before turning back to face them. "Well, I haven't forgiven you, yet," she said, stubbornly. "But I'm glad you're all back—and in one piece. What's this thing Harry's trying to find, anyway?"

"Something that's going to help us kill You-Know-Who," Ron answered.

"Like a weapon?"

"Sort of," Hermione said. "It's keeping him alive. And if we can find it and destroy it, then Harry can destroy him."

Ginny paused, seemingly very interested in the sleeve of her jumper. "Harry's really got to do it, then?" she asked quietly, swallowing hard.

Hermione mentally slapped herself for letting such a thing slip. She and Ron exchanged a quick look before he gave her the slightest of nods to continue. After all, what was the point of hiding it now? Most people had guessed correctly, anyway.

"Yes...it has to be Harry," Hermione said carefully.

Ginny seemed to visibly deflate at these words, her face growing paler by the second.

"Ginny, I—"

"Could you both just...leave me alone for a moment," she interrupted shakily. "Please."

Hermione watched her walk to an isolated corner of the room and collapse down against the wall, her face buried in her hands and her elbows on her knees. She knew what it felt like—the hopelessness. It was the same way she felt the moment she'd first learned about the prophesy. Like everything was bleak and impossible.

But they'd all lived a lifetime since then. So much had happened and so much had changed. And Ginny didn't even realize that they were almost near the end now, closer than they'd ever been.

"I should go talk to her," Ron said, quietly, his eyes set in determination.

"No...I'll do it," Hermione responded, placing her arm out to stop him.

He instantly relaxed. "Good, because I honestly would have no idea what to say," he admitted.

She sniffed in amusement. "I figured as much. Here, just think of a way to destroy _this_ while I'm gone," she said, stuffing the purple knapsack that held Hufflepuff's cup into his chest.

"Oh, is that all?" he mumbled.

She ignored him, quietly making her way over to the distressed looking redhead in the corner, and pausing for a moment in front of her.

"Are you just going to stare at me, or are you going to sit down?"

Hermione took a seat, and then moved to lift Ginny's head carefully out of her hands. There were tear stains running the length of her freckled face and her eyes were puffy.

"It's not a death sentence, you know," she said softly.

Ginny turned her head away, refusing to meet her eyes. "Might as well be."

Hermione stared intently at her. "I know you don't mean that."

A few more tears escaped Ginny's eyes, but she wiped them away quickly. "I want to believe in him, Hermione, I really do. But...it just seems so impossible. How can he do it? He's only seventeen..."

"Harry's not like most people his age, though, is he?" she responded. "Look, when I first found out, I was terrified, too. I tried to be optimistic and tell myself that everything would be okay, but some days I still felt like it was all hopeless."

"But it's not like that anymore," she continued. "Because now we know how to get rid of him. And we will get rid of him. Harry _will_."

"But how can you be sure?" Ginny asked roughly.

Hermione glanced away.

"I can't," she uttered.

She couldn't. There was no way in the world she could be sure of anything. From the moment Harry first told them of the Prophesy and every single day after that, all she could do was hope. And hope and hope until hoping became like breathing and she required it to live. There was no room for doubt or uncertainty. She _needed _to believe that he would survive.

Because a life without Harry...it was unfathomable.

"I just can't afford to think any differently, though," she continued, finally. "If I do, then...then I go mad. But that's not an option, not now. Not when Harry needs me."

Ginny ran both her hands through her hair, taking a deep breath in. "And what if he doesn't need me?" she asked hollowly. "Who do I stay strong for then?"

"You stay strong for yourself," Hermione replied fervently, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "That's the most important thing you can do right now."

"And you're wrong," she added a moment later. "Harry does need you."

Ginny threw her a disbelieving look.

"He needs you to protect yourself, to stay safe," she explained, causing the girl to give a humourless laugh.

"Don't look at me like that, I mean it! He can't afford to lose any more people that he loves. And I don't care what may have happened between the two of you. No matter what, you're still his friend."

"Well, why is my life more important than anyone else's?" she immediately shot back.

"That's not what this is about, Ginny. He doesn't want _anyone_ to risk their lives for him."

"So, what about you and Ron, then? Are you not considered people?"

"That's different," Hermione said, brushing her off.

"How?" Ginny practically shouted. "Please, enlighten me on how that's so different! What, is it because he trusts you? Because you're the 'Golden Trio'? Because you're stuck to each other like glue and he can't even wipe his nose without asking you—"

"Stop it," Hermione said suddenly with an almost frightening seriousness.

Ginny clenched her teeth with a scowl, but remained silent.

"Do you think it was easy?" she then asked quietly. "Trying to make him understand that he could actually depend on someone other than himself? It took _years_, Ginny, and he still doesn't get it sometimes. I know you may have feelings for him—you may even love him. But right now, you're going to have to accept that Ron and I have simply been there longer."

Ginny visibly swallowed as she stared down into her hands, her once creased forehead relaxing in defeat. "I guess I was too busy sticking my elbow in butter dishes and sending him Valentine's Day cards," she said with a hint of bitterness.

"You were eleven."

"I was pathetic."

"You had a crush."

"I was pathetic."

Hermione sighed. "Well, at least you grew out of it."

Ginny continued staring into her hands for a long while as if contemplating something. Then finally she spoke: "Did he ever mention me at all...while you guys were gone?"

The two girls made eye contact for a moment before Hermione shifted her glance away.

If she was being honest...no, he hadn't. And this was something that surprised her slightly. It had been clear that Harry still had feelings for Ginny even after he'd broken up with her. And yet, not once in the past several months had he ever brought this subject up.

At least, not to her anyway...maybe he just kept it to himself and thought about her constantly.

_Why wouldn't he tell me, though? Surely he'd want to tell someone? And it's not like he could tell Ron...Even if the prat hadn't left, Ginny's still his sister. I'm not sure that would really go over well..._

_But then...maybe he wasn't thinking about her at all..._

Hermione entertained this possibility for the briefest of moments before the all too familiar feeling of guilt squeezed uncomfortably at her insides. She tried unsuccessfully to ignore the sensation of pleasure that had run through her at the thought. The thought that Harry no longer fancied Ginny...the foolish, selfish thought...

And even if it were true, why should that help her? It's not as if he would start fancying her instead.

_No matter what Luna says..._

Hermione immediately felt something stir inside of her. That conversation at Shell Cottage with Luna...It was the first time that even an ounce of hope had passed through her. At the possibility that maybe, _maybe_ Harry felt something for her more than friendship.

But just as soon as that hope came, it then evaporated.

Why? She wasn't sure. But she didn't give it much thought. There were far more pressing things to think about, after all.

Her desires were insignificant.

But as Hermione stared at the girl in front of her, she slowly began to realize something. To Ginny, the desire to be with Harry was anything but insignificant. It was her world. She had no horcruxes or hallows or prophesies to invade her mind. The risk of death was near, but it was never present. And while she was by no means naive or ignorant or even privileged, she still lived a life that she could call her _own_.

Hermione was not as fortunate in that respect. Nor Harry or even Ron, for that matter. Because for the last several months, their lives had not truly belonged to them. They'd belonged to the war.

And it was this small fact alone that caused her to envy the girl sitting in front of her for just the briefest of moments. But it also made her equally unsure of how to respond.

If she said no, Ginny would surely be crushed.

If she said yes...well, it would be a lie, first of all. And second of all...

_It would give her hope._

_So, is that a good thing...or a bad thing?_

She took an uncomfortable gulp of air, and then opened her mouth to speak. "Ginny, I..."

"Hermione!"

Both girls snapped their heads up to see Ron hurry towards them, his eyes bright and his ears red with what seemed to be excitement.

"What is it, what's wrong?" she asked, taken aback.

"I need to talk to you," he said quickly. Then throwing a significant glance toward Ginny's direction, he added: "In private."

Ginny merely rolled her eyes, looking slightly put out but not saying anything. Hermione threw her an apologetic look before Ron all but dragged her to the other side of the room.

She heard him mutter a quick _muffliato_, and then he turned to face her with that same look of excitement.

"What, did you find another horcrux while I was gone?" she asked sardonically.

"Better."

Hermione frowned. "Don't play games with me, Ronald Weasley."

"I'm not."

"All right, so what is it?" she said.

Ron smiled smugly, as if enjoying the fact that he knew something Hermione didn't. However, a quick glare thrown his way caused him to clear his throat and say, "Hufflepuff's Cup, I know how we can get rid of it."

"How?" she demanded breathlessly.

"Well, I was thinking about the horcruxes that have already been destroyed. The ring and the locket—those were with the sword of Gryffindor, right?"

"Right..." she replied slowly.

"So, that leaves—"

"The diary."

"Exactly," Ron responded, his excitement growing. "And how did Harry destroy that one?"

"Basilisk venom," Hermione whispered to herself, her pulse increasing as she rapidly reached the conclusion in her mind.

"Ron, that's brilliant!" she exclaimed suddenly. "We can get basilisk venom from the Chamber of Secrets!"

The redhead pretended to brush off the compliment as if he was being modest, but that didn't stop the wide grin from spreading across his face. "It was just common sense, really. So, come on then, let's go!" he said, grabbing Hermione by the hand and pulling her towards the door.

"Wait!" she called suddenly, pulling him back. "We can't go yet. How are we supposed to get in? We need Harry, don't we?"

"Oh, about that," Ron said, dropping her hand. "I was thinking. Parseltongue is just another language, isn't it?"

"Yes..."

"So, there's no reason why I can't just imitate it," he stated. "I'm sure if I try a couple of times I can make that same hissing noise Harry used when he opened the locket."

Hermione was doubtful, however. "I don't know, Ron...I don't feel like Parseltongue is a language you can just imitate. I mean if that were the case, then all dark witches and wizards would have learned it by now. It just seems unlikely, don't you think?"

Ron sighed heavily. "I know it's unlikely. But we have to _try_, don't we?" he said earnestly. "Harry's not here right now, so we've got to take matters into our own hands. You said yourself that he didn't have to do this all alone. We can help, Hermione!"

She stood quiet for a moment, surprised at Ron's sudden change in behaviour. It was different, that was for sure. He just seemed entirely different.

There was a steely determination in his eyes and an air of confidence about him that she'd never seen before. A sort of confidence that forced her to trust every word that came out of his mouth. It was the first time in her life that Hermione felt she could actually depend on him.

And it was a good feeling, a liberating feeling. Maybe she didn't have to do this all alone, either.

"You're right. We do have to try," she responded finally.

Then, placing her hand in his, Hermione stated clearly, "Lead the way."

* * *

><p>They stood in front of the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, Ron with his eyes shut in concentration and Hermione anxiously staring between him and the stubborn unmoving door.<p>

It had only been about five minutes, but with each of his failed attempts she was starting to grow more and more discouraged.

"Maybe it knows you're not a real Parselmouth?"

But as soon as the words left her lips, the two stone snakes on the door slithered into life and a noise like a heavy bolt being unlocked echoed throughout the large tunnel.

Hermione couldn't believe her eyes. "Ron, you did it!" she shrieked excitedly, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug.

He stumbled back a bit, whether from the sudden weight or the shock, though, she couldn't tell. But she quickly let go, choosing not to acknowledge the fact that he had immediately turned red as a tomato.

Ron cleared his throat. "Shall we?" he said, gesturing toward the entrance.

She nodded, following right behind him as he climbed into the chamber. The ceiling was high and the marble stone floor echoed ominously with every step they took. But the worst part was the air. It was dank and musty and smelled strongly of mildew and rot.

"There it is," Ron said softly from beside her.

She followed his gaze to the end of the chamber and immediately let out a horrified gasp.

There lay the decaying corpse of a snake that looked about twenty metres in length and as thick as an oak trunk. It was quite possibly the most terrifying thing she had ever laid eyes on.

As they walked silently toward the dead creature at the end of the hall, Hermione couldn't help but wonder how a twelve year old boy could ever find the courage to stand in its midst, let alone slay it. A whole new admiration for Harry surged within her heart.

"How did he do it?" Ron said in a somewhat awestruck tone, voicing her own thoughts.

Now that they were closer, they could clearly see the spot where the sword of Gryffindor had been thrust through the Basilisk's head.

"Fawkes blinded it," she answered faintly.

"I don't care if Fawkes dressed it in a pinafore and made it sing nursery rhymes. If I saw this thing coming, I'd be heading the opposite direction," Ron declared.

"Then let's be thankful that it was you stuck behind the wall of rubble with Lockhart and not Harry," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

Ron merely shrugged, crouching down to take a better look at the Basilisk's mouth. "Blimey, look at these fangs," he exclaimed.

He reached over to grab hold of one of them and pulled roughly, an unpleasant squelching noise erupting as it parted from the head. He then stood up and turned to face her, his entire demeanour growing serious as he threw her a significant look.

With slightly shaking hands, Hermione reached into her bag and pulled out Hufflepuff's cup. She motioned for Ron to take it, but he shook his head.

"What?" she asked.

"It's your turn, Hermione," he responded.

She stared at him with her eyes wide and mouth slightly open. "I-I don't think..."

But he quickly silenced her by placing the large fang in her hand. She looked down at it for a moment, and then back up at him.

"Ron—"

"All you have to do is stab it," he explained. "If I can do it, then you sure as hell can."

His voice was filled with such conviction, that Hermione found herself once again left with no choice but to believe him.

So, she took a deep breath in and nodded determinedly.

Placing the cup on the ground, she positioned the Basilisk fang carefully in her hand.

_The sooner I do this, the sooner it'll all be over._

_There'll only be two horcruxes left..._

_Two horcruxes. _

_Two horcruxes and it'll all be over..._

The image of a triumphant Harry burned before her eyes, and she felt her heart physically shudder with the yearning to make it a reality.

And she could. She could make it a reality.

Feeling a sudden unknown source of energy course through her veins at the thought, Hermione raised her arm high and used all her strength to plunge the fang straight through the cup.

As soon as it made contact, she felt herself being thrown back by some invisible force. And as her body met with the cold, hard stone floor, a burst of light erupted, causing a painful contrast to the once dark chamber.

Then after a moment, it was gone.

Hermione just sat there, breathing heavily.

She heard footsteps running toward her and looked up to see Ron kneel down in front of her.

"Are you okay?" he asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Yes," she breathed.

His face then relaxed into a wide grin. "You did it, Hermione, you destroyed it!"

They stared at each other for a moment. And then, for a reason unbeknownst to either of them, they both erupted in to a fit of laughter.

Maybe it was the stress of the situation, maybe it was the happiness over their success, or maybe they'd both just gone mad. Hermione wasn't sure, and she didn't care enough to figure it out. For now, it just felt good.

When the last of their laughs finally dissipated off the walls, Ron stood up and walked over to the Basilisk, collecting as many fangs from the dead creature as he could carry in his arms.

"Don't forget that," he said, gesturing his head to the now destroyed cup on the floor.

"Can't we just leave it here?" she suggested, not too keen on making a keepsake out of it.

"Are you barmy?" he said. "And miss the opportunity to see Harry wet himself as we hand it over? No, thank you."

"I'm sure he'll be equally excited if we just tell him," she argued, stuffing it inside her bag nonetheless.

"Maybe, but this will be so much more satisfying," he said. "Now come on, let's get the hell out of here before this thing decides to wake up from the dead."

She didn't need telling twice, and the two of them all but ran out of the chamber without once looking back.

After they exited through the girls' lavatory, they continued running all the way to the seventh floor corridor until they turned a final corner and came face to face with none other than Harry.

Hermione's heart immediately leapt within her chest.

"Where the _hell_ have you been?" he shouted, looking like he was caught between wanting to hug them or pounce on them in fury.

"Chamber of Secrets," said Ron.

"Chamber—_what_?"

"It was Ron, all Ron's idea!" Hermione said.

And she set out to explain all that had occurred after he left, the rush of exhilaration over destroying the horcrux still threatening to overtake her.

"So..." Harry said, struggling to keep up. "So..."

"So we're another horcrux down," said Ron. "Hermione stabbed it. Thought she should. She hasn't had the pleasure yet."

Ron gestured for her to show him, and as she pulled out the mangled remains of Hufflepuff's cup, Harry's eyes were instantly alight with excitement.

"Genius!" he yelled.

Ron threw her a smug look that clearly said 'I told you so', but she merely rolled her eyes.

"So, what's new with you?"

Harry quickly filled them in on the information he'd learned about the diadem as they raced toward the Room of Requirement. "I know what it looks like, and I know where it is," he said, talking fast. "He hid it exactly where I hid my old Potions book. Come on."

When they reached the Room, they found Ginny waiting there impatiently and looking quite bored.

"Ginny," said Harry, "I'm sorry, but we need you to leave. Just for a bit. Then you can come back in."

She looked up at him, a simply delightful expression spreading across her features as she rushed to leave her sanctuary.

"And then you can come back in!" he shouted after her as she ran up the steps.

Harry groaned but turned back to face them.

"Hang on a moment!" said Ron sharply. "We've forgotten someone!"

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "Who?"

"The house-elves, they'll all be down in the kitchen, won't they?" he said seriously. "We should tell them to get out. We don't want any more Dobbies, do we? We can't order them to die for us."

She stared him, her mouth slightly open in disbelief.

Ron had just succeeded in thoroughly surprising her for the second time that hour.

He just seemed so _different_.

Not at all like the immature, tactless boy she had grown up with the past several years. Who had abandoned her and Harry and who had destroyed her trust.

He didn't pick meaningless fights with her anymore, he didn't constantly whine and complain, he wasn't selfish. And sure, perhaps he was only trying to make up for what he'd done. But somehow...it just didn't feel that way. She could see it in his character, in the way he held himself, the way his eyes shone bright with all it took was one mistake to shake his entire world. To convince him that it was time to grow up.

He hadn't changed. He'd _matured. _

And Hermione couldn't help but feel immensely proud of him because of it.

With a slight smile spreading on her face, she hurried over to Ron to engulf him in a warm hug and place a small peck on his cheek. However, as soon as she reached him, he started in surprise, turning his head to face her at the very last second, and causing her lips to land directly on his.

Hermione's eyes immediately widened in horror and her entire body and mind seemed to freeze with shock.

_Our lips are touching. Our lips are touching. WHY ARE OUR LIPS TOUCHING!?_

Breaking out of her momentary paralysis, she stepped away from him so quickly it was as if he'd stung her. A look of uneasiness formed on her face, but luckily, or perhaps unluckily, his eyes were closed.

She vaguely heard Harry say something, but was too caught up in the whirlwind that was her mind to register what it was.

Her eyes immediately widened again.

_Oh my God! Harry!_

Hermione turned around to look at him, her face burning up in a way it had never done before in his presence.

_He just saw all of that..._

_Harry just saw me put my lips on Ron's lips..._

They made eye contact for a moment and she willed him to understand that it was all an accident, but he quickly looked away.

Hermione felt her heart sink. She couldn't explain why, but she felt as if she'd disappointed him somehow. And there was an immensely uncomfortable feeling growing within the pit of her stomach at the thought.

She didn't dare look at Ron, too afraid to see what his reaction might be. She could guess that his face was probably as red as hers was, but for an entirely different reason.

_Just don't think about it right now. Don't think about it right now. Think about it later. You'll explain everything later! _Hermione thought wildly as the three of them raced back inside the newly transformed room of requirement.

Even though it killed her inside to know that she wasn't able to justify herself, Hermione was forced to fight this gnawing need. It was quite clear that the situation in the castle was growing worse by the second, and the last thing they needed to focus on was her feelings.

"Let's split up," Harry said, as they entered a room the size of a cathedral filled with objects hidden by thousands of long-gone students. "Look for a stone bust of an old man wearing a wig and a tiara!"

The three sped off up adjacent aisles.

"Old man, tiara, old man, tiara," Hermione muttered to herself as she screwed her eyes in concentration. Everywhere she turned there were piles of nonsensical junk, but she willed herself to take in every speck of it, her heart beating furiously in her ears all the while.

She continued in this manner for some time until she thought she detected voices up ahead. Figuring it must be Harry and Ron, she chose to ignore it.

However, no sooner had she made this decision than an entire mountain of old furniture, broken trunks, old books and robes, began to slowly totter next to her. Hermione let out a piercing scream as she stumbled backwards, trying to avoid being crushed by the innumerable objects crashing to the ground.

But as she covered her head and ducked out of the way, the wall instantly seemed to steady itself back its original state.

Breathing heavily, she carefully stood back up and edged her way nearer to the voices that seemed to be getting louder.

"I'm not killing him, am I?" yelled a voice.

Hermione squinted her eyes, hiding herself behind a large pile of broken chairs. She could see the figures of Malfoy and Crabbe, and she slowly started to make her way closer to the group, careful not to make the slightest noise.

"But if I can, I will, the Dark Lord wants him dead anyway, what's the diff—?"

"_Stupefy!" _she yelled suddenly, sending a jet of red light straight toward Crabbe's head, only just missing him as Malfoy quickly pulled him out of the way.

Crabbe turned to look directly at her, and his face immediately screwed up in a threatening glare. "It's that Mudblood! _Avada Kedavra!"_

Hermione dived out of the way, colliding painfully with large pile of books. But she only gave herself a second to recover as she quickly stood back up and shot another Stunning Spell at Goyle.

But before she could make another move, something stopped her.

It was the air. It felt...hot. Really hot.

She turned her head to the side just a fraction, but that was all it took.

Flames. Flames like she'd never seen, licking up the sides of the junk bulwarks, which were crumbling to soot at their touch.

"HARRY!" she screamed.

He whipped his head around and both of them stood shocked for a moment as they saw Ron and Crabbe running as hard as they could up the aisle toward them.

"What can we do?" Hermione screamed desperately as all six occupants of the room, Malfoy dragging a Stunned Goyle, pelted away from the fire that seemed intent on killing them.

Harry looked around wildly, sweat pouring down his face from the heat of the room.

"Here!" he yelled suddenly.

He seized a pair of heavy-looking broomsticks from the nearest pile of junk and threw one to Ron, who immediately pulled Hermione onto it behind him. Harry swung his leg over the second broom and, with hard kicks to the ground, they soared up in the air, missing by metres the horned beak of a flaming raptor that snapped its jaws at them.

She couldn't see Malfoy, Crabbe, or Goyle anywhere, and with an uncomfortable lurch, she realized that Goyle was probably slowing them down. Goyle...whom she had Stunned.

No...no, they couldn't die because of her. No...

Hermione closed her eyes, trying desperately to fight away the treacherous tears.

"It's—too—dangerous—!" she heard Ron yell suddenly.

Snapping her eyes open, she looked down to see Harry trying and failing to grasp Malfoy's arm. He was still holding on to the unconscious Goyle and the weight of both of them was just too much for Harry to handle.

_NO!_ Hermione's mind screamed.

She wanted to yell out to Harry. To pull him away. This was her fault, this was all her fault. She should be the one risking her life. Not Harry! _Not Harry!_

"Ron! Ron, we have to help him!" she cried madly, shaking his shoulder. "We have to grab Goyle!"

Clenching his teeth resolutely, Ron turned the broom around swiftly and headed straight toward them.

"IF WE DIE FOR THEM, I'LL KILL YOU, HARRY!" he roared.

As soon as they reached them, she and Ron dragged the unconscious Goyle onto their broom and rose into the air once more as Malfoy clambered up behind Harry.

With one last look to make sure Harry had safely extracted himself from the firestorm below, Ron leaned down flat against the broom and sped off towards the exit.

All three of them tumbled down onto the ground as they made it into the corridor.

Hermione carefully laid Goyle's body on the ground, before leaning back against the wall and panting and coughing along with Ron.

A second later, Harry and Malfoy appeared through the door as well and she was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief.

But as soon as the momentary relief passed through her, it was quickly replaced by a fresh set of panic. Yells and shouts and the unmistakable noises of duelling filled the corridor: the Death Eaters had finally penetrated Hogwarts. Harry, Ron, and Hermione quickly spotted Percy and Fred battling the masked and hooded men and ran forward to help.

A sort of terror cut through her as she saw an unmistakable green light whiz just passed Percy's shoulder. Her breath had caught in her throat, and she had to shake her head to clear it and focus on the task before her.

"_Stupefy!" _she yelled, aiming at the Death Eater who had his eyes set on Fred. The curse missed him by nearly a centimetre, but unfortunately succeeded in alerting him to her presence.

He immediately turned around, aiming his wand directly above her heart. Before either of them could react, however, a brilliant and catastrophic sound erupted around them. The air seemed to explode. Hermione felt herself being violently thrown back as the corridor around them was quite literally blown away.

The world around her suddenly went black. She was buried beneath all the wreckage and she could scarcely hear what was happening around her. But as she struggled to catch her breath and slow her rapidly beating heart, she could clearly make out one terrible, agonizing cry.

She couldn't know who the cry belonged to, but it was enough to make her heart instantly shudder with fear. And with a strength she didn't know she possessed, Hermione broke through the layer of stone threatening to crush her and struggled to her feet.

She saw Harry quickly make his way over to her, and she had never been so happy to see him alive. He grabbed on to her hand as they staggered and stumbled over the wood and stone.

"No—no—no!" someone was shouting. "No! Fred! No!"

Hermione clasped a hand to her mouth as she took in the sight before her.

Fred.

Happy, mischievous, playful, annoying, funny, wonderful Fred.

No.

No, he couldn't just die. He wasn't supposed to die. _Fred couldn't die!_

Hermione's mind screamed these same thoughts over and over again as fast tears streamed down her cheeks.

She watched as Percy and Ron kneeled beside their brother, Percy shaking him incessantly as if he could somehow wake him. As if this was somehow a joke.

Oh, how she wished it was a joke! How she wished Fred would wake and yell out with amusement dancing in his eyes that he'd once again fooled them. She would give anything for it to be a joke.

But it wasn't.

* * *

><p>Hermione sat there on the bench with tears steadily falling down her face. She saw no point in wiping them away anymore. New ones would just replace the old, after all.<p>

She, Harry, and Ron had entered the Great Hall not too long ago to discover the agonizing number of people now lying lifeless on the ground.

Fred, Lupin, Tonks.

It was all too much.

She watched as the large group of Weasleys huddled protectively around Fred's body weeping endless tears. It was all wrong. The Weasleys weren't meant to weep like that. They weren't supposed to weep. They were supposed to happy. They were supposed to be together, all together, always.

"Hermione," Ron choked out, suddenly. "Where's Harry?"

Hermione looked to the end of the hall where she'd last seen him not five minutes previously. But he was gone.

"Hermione..." he said again, with worry clearly etched in his tone.

"He must be here somewhere," she said suddenly, standing up. "He wouldn't just leave without telling us."

But even as she said the words, a familiar feeling of terror pierced through her, multiplied a hundredfold.

"What is it, what's wrong?" Ginny asked, looking up at both of them with puffy eyes.

"Ron?" Mrs. Weasley asked weakly.

He hesitated slightly before answering. "I-It's Harry. We don't know where he is."

"What do you mean, you don't know where he is?" Ginny asked in a deadly tone.

"He was right here, where could he have gone?" Hermione said barely above a whisper.

Her mind was already formulating a thousand bad scenarios, each one of them getting worse by the second. She could hear everyone arguing around her, but couldn't seem to register a word they were saying.

Where was Harry?

Where was he?

_Where was he?_

Then suddenly a thought popped up in her mind. "Ron!" she nearly shouted. "The memories from Snape! What if he took them to the pensieve?"

Without a word, Ron grabbed her arm as he raced out of the Great Hall at breakneck speed, leading her all the way to the Headmaster's office. They stumbled quickly up the spiral staircase, and Hermione nearly blasted the door off its hinges as she shouted out a powerful "_Alohamora". _

When they stepped into the room, however, it was quite empty.

"He was here, Ron," she said, shakily, taking in the pensieve that was still sitting on the desk.

Ron slammed his fist hard on one of the tables, making several silver instruments clatter to the ground.

"WHAT'S HE PLAYING AT!?" he shouted, grabbing the entire table and throwing it to the floor, as well.

Hermione choked back a sob. "M-maybe he went down to the Great Hall. We should go check," she said feebly.

"YOU KNOW WHERE HE WENT, HERMIONE!" Ron cried, looking slightly crazed. "YOU KNOW AS WELL AS I DO!"

"No..." Hermione whispered, her eyes blurring from the tears. "No, you're wrong. Harry wouldn't do that."

Throwing himself against the wall, Ron slid down to the ground and wept freely into his arms. "There's still one horcrux left, Hermione, what was he thinking?"

"Ron, stop it! Stop it, right now!" she demanded, taking his arm and pulling him up to face her. "We're going down to the Great Hall, and if he's not there, then we're going to go look for him!"

"You-Know-Who threatened him," Ron said shakily. "He said he would kill all of us if Harry didn't go to him. You know Harry could never stand that."

"Then we have to go and help him, don't we?" she stated, desperately attempting to block the image of a dead Harry from her mind.

Ron nodded, seeming to pull himself back together as the two of them hurried down the spiral staircase and back to the Great Hall.

But once again they were met with Harry's distressing absence.

"Did you find him? Where is he?" Ginny demanded immediately as they approached the group of Weasleys.

Upon seeing the troubled looks on Ron and Hermione's faces, Mrs. Weasley immediately let out a long wail. "No..._no! _ I can't lose any more of my children, I can't!"

Hermione could feel her knees threatening to give in as the reality of the situation finally seemed to set in upon her.

She had to go out and find him. She had to save him. He was walking into a death trap! She had always known the moment would come when he would have to face off with Voldemort, but she had never imagined it would be like this!

Ron was right, there was still one horcrux left. What was Harry thinking?

Hermione heard shouting and was suddenly taken out of her stupor.

"Ronald Weasley, you will do no such thing!" Mrs. Weasley yelled.

"Harry could be dying!" he yelled back.

"Ron, your mother's right," Mr. Weasley said, looking much older than usual. "The Order will go out and look for him, this isn't your responsibility."

"No, no it's not. It's Harry's, isn't it? It's all Harry's bloody responsibility, isn't it!? Ron bellowed. "Well, I'm sick and tired of watching my best friend have to sacrifice his life for the rest of the world. I'M SICK OF IT!"

Ron raced toward the end of the hall before his parents could stop him, and without a second thought Hermione sprinted to join him.

She was going to save Harry or die trying.

However, before they could even reach the Entrance Hall, a terrible voice emitted throughout the large room, echoing off the ancient walls and sending shivers up every person's spine.

"_Harry Potter is dead...We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone...The battle is won...Come out of the castle now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared."_

Several screams and shouts erupted around her, but all Hermione could do was stand there. Her legs like lead. Her stomach like stone. Her mind going completely blank and her heart beating like a useless drum in her ears.

As if by an unknown force, her legs were carrying her out of the castle along with everyone else. By why were they doing that? Why were they leaving the castle? This wasn't real...None of this was real. They had to go back and wait for Harry. Harry would come because she had to tell him. She had to tell him everything. That he was her best friend. He was her first friend. She had to tell him how he saved her from a lifetime of pain and loneliness and insecurity. She had to tell him that he made her feel comfortable and strong and safe. She had to tell him that she needed him. More than anyone. More than anything. And she had to tell him that she loved him. _She had to!_

No, no this wasn't real.

"NO!"

"No!"

"_No!"_

Hermione whipped her head around left and right to see tears flowing freely down everyone's faces as they shouted out.

Then she saw him.

Cradled tenderly in Hagrid's large arms.

And just like that she dropped down to her knees and let out a terrible scream that left her vocal chords raw.

"Harry! HARRY!" she cried out to him, willing him to answer her.

But he would never answer her again.

Wracking sobs instantly took over her body at the thought. She would never hear his voice again. She would never hear his beautiful laughter or see his beautiful smile. She would never look into his eyes and see him looking back. His eyes. His beautiful, beautiful green eyes.

"No...no, no, no, no, no," she whimpered like a small child.

She felt someone's arms lift her up gently, but she didn't care to look. Her face was in her hands as tears flowed from her eyes like an eternal spring.

"SILENCE!" cried Voldemort. "It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!"

A new very different emotion swelled within Hermione's heart. Anger. Raw, hot anger. And she welcomed it.

"He beat you!" a voice yelled next to her. And she realized it was Ron's. Ron had been the one who'd picked her up.

Wiping away at her eyes, she stared at Voldemort with all the ferocity she could muster. If looks could kill, she had no doubt that him and his demented souls would all be destroyed.

As Voldemort continued to talk, she felt Ron turn her body to face him. "We have to end this," he said barely above a whisper. His eyes were red-rimmed and his face was pale, but he had an almost feral look about him. "We have to do it for Harry."

Hermione nodded as several more tears spilled down her face.

He was right. She couldn't waste away, not now, not yet. She had to be strong.

After everything was over, after Voldemort was gone, only then would she allow herself to think.

However, no sooner had they made the silent decision, then Neville took them all by surprise and destroyed the very last horcrux himself.

Nagini was gone.

Voldemort was mortal.

And there were hundreds of people just waiting in line to kill him.

Chaos reigned. The charging centaurs were scattering the Death Eaters, everyone was fleeing the giants' stamping feet, and nearer and nearer thundered the reinforcements that had come from who knew where. Defenders of Hogwarts and Death Eaters alike, were being forced back into the castle.

Hermione was throwing curses at Death Eaters every which way, putting all her power and energy into each spell. She fired at such a rapid succession that her mind had stopped working and in its place her instinct had taken over.

She fought with purpose. She fought to avenge Harry and to make him proud. It was because of him she could even stand a chance again all these Death Eaters. It was because of him that she, Ron, Ginny, Luna, Neville, Seamus, Dean, Hannah, and so many others were now holding their own against dark wizards more than twice their age.

They owed Harry everything, _especially_ their lives.

She, Ginny, and Luna were now fiercely battling against Bellatrix, and as a Killing Curse missed Ginny by nearly a centimetre, Hermione could feel the same white hot rage surge within her.

No. No one else was going to die tonight.

Hermione was just about to shout a powerful curse at Bellatrix when someone else got to her first.

"NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!"

Mrs. Weasley threw off her cloak as she ran, freeing her arms.

"OUT OF MY WAY!" shouted Mrs. Weasley to the three girls, and with a swipe of her wand she began to duel.

"You—will—never—touch—our—children—again!" screamed Mrs. Weasley.

After very heavy duelling, one of Mrs. Weasley's curses soared beneath Bellatrix's outstretched arm and hit her squarely in the chest, directly over her heart.

Voldemort instantly screamed as his last, best lieutenant exploded with the force of a bomb. Hermione watched as if in slow motion as he raised his wand and directed it at Molly Weasley.

"No..." Hermione said breathlessly.

"_Protego!"_

She whipped her head around at the sound of his voice. The voice she never thought she'd hear again.

The hall erupted in a cacophony of screams and shouts, and Hermione had to lean against a table to keep herself from falling down.

He was there. He was right there in front of her. She felt every nerve in her body tingle with elation at the sight of him and she prayed with all her heart that this was real.

Because if it wasn't...Hermione dared not think of that.

She watched as Harry and Voldemort began to circle each other, each with pure looks of loathing on their faces. They were talking about things, a lot of things. But Hermione could barely process any of it as her eyes followed Harry's every move, willing herself to memorize him in case this really was a dream.

"So it all comes down to this, doesn't it?" whispered Harry. "Does the wand in your hand know its last master was Disarmed? Because if it does...I am the true master of the Elder Wand."

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

"_Expelliarmus!"_

Hermione watched in bated breath as Voldemort's green jet met Harry's red one.

Then all of a sudden the Elder Wand flew high across the enchanted ceiling, spinning through the air toward its true master. And Harry caught the wand in his free hand as Voldemort fell backward, arms splayed, the slit pupils of scarlet eyes rolling upward.

She dared not blink lest this phantom of Harry evaporate before her eyes.

Was it really over?

Could it really be true?

And just like that, the tumult broke around Harry as the screams and the cheers and the roars of the watchers rent the air.

Finally realizing that this was indeed reality, Hermione sprinted toward Harry to engulf him in the most powerful hug she had ever given him.

Ron had quickly sped up to meet them, as his arms wrapped around Harry as well.

She closed her eyes as she held him close to her, never wanting to let go, never wanting to say goodbye. She could feel crowds of people fighting to seize him, pull him, hug some part of him, determined to touch the Boy Who Lived. But still, she refused to let go.

She never wanted to let go.

* * *

><p>AN: Okay, so I know this a thousand years late buttttt, in my slight defense, my laptop was attacked by a virus shortly after posting the last chapter and it took some time to fix. Not two months time, obviously, but still SOME time. So, yeah. Sorry! If you're still here and reading this, thank you so much for being patient! I really really really hope you liked this chapter. It is the last one of direct canon *wink wink* so yeah...from here on out, it's my own story line. Quite scary isn't it? Hopefully you enjoy what I have in store...we shall see. Once again, thanks so much for reading and sticking around! Have an awesome, spectacular day :)


	35. Chapter 35

_I think we all used to be under the impression that when the war was finally over, life would immediately turn pleasant and easy and everything would simply be perfect. _

_It was a silly notion, yes. And in our heart of hearts, I don't think even we truly believed it. _

_But it was our goal. It was what we fought so hard for, and it would simply be cruel for anyone to openly point out the improbability of it all. That no one we loved would have to die. That none of us would have to feel the pain of being left behind. That we wouldn't still have fears and nightmares and gaping holes in our hearts. _

_Oh, what we all would have given for that silly notion to be true._

* * *

><p>Hermione sat on the windowsill, her book lying forgotten in her lap, as she stared out the window at one lone figure resting against a tree. He hadn't changed position for what seemed like hours, and the sun was slowly beginning to set. With a deep sigh, she gently laid the book aside and made her silent trek down the rickety stairs of the Burrow and through the back door, avoiding Mrs. Weasley and Ginny on her way out.<p>

She made her way over to him slowly, so as not to startle him.

"Hey," Hermione said, softly.

Harry's head snapped up, but he quickly relaxed as he saw who it was.

"Hey," he replied, his voice sounding slightly gravelly from lack of use.

He then turned his head to face the small pond before him once more.

Unperturbed, Hermione carefully took a seat on the ground next to him, letting a contemplative silence fill the air as she absentmindedly pulled at the blades of grass around her. Surprisingly, she didn't feel much discomfort at the lack of exchange. After living in that scruffy tent for nearly a year, there was no such thing as having a lull in conversation between them. Silence was simply silence and it felt almost natural.

"Where are the others?" Harry asked after some time.

"Mrs. Weasley and Ginny are in the kitchen and…Ron's up in his room."

There was no need to state where George was. For the past three weeks he had only ever left his room to use the loo.

As if on cue, Hermione's insides squeezed painfully. Being here at the Burrow, it was especially hard to accept the reality of Fred's death. She always expected him to burst through the door at any moment wearing some ridiculous new outfit and raving on about a new product that she could only roll her eyes at.

So many times Hermione wished she could remember the last thing she had said to him. Whether it was good or bad. Whether she had ever told him just how brilliant she really thought his work was.

And as always, thoughts of Fred soon led into thoughts of Remus and Tonks and every other person who she would never see again.

And then to her parents….

Shutting her eyes, Hermione took in a shaky breath. She had wanted to head to Australia the instant they arrived at the Burrow, but she had felt so terribly guilty at dropping everyone and leaving. After all, they needed her now more than ever. Her parents were safe, she reasoned. She would go in few days.

However, as the days slowly turned into weeks she was starting to grow more and more restless.

"Harry," she said, finally.

"Hmm," he responded, still staring straight ahead.

"I…I need to bring my parents back," she stated quietly.

This time, Harry turned his entire body to face her direction as a look of shame flashed in his eyes.

"Oh Merlin, Hermione, I completely forgot about that," he said, running his fingers through his hair. "I'm sosorry."

"No no, it's not your fault, Harry!" she replied quickly, surprised by his reaction. "If anything, it's mine. I don't even know why I've delayed this for so long. I mean, at first I just didn't want to leave everyone, but…I don't know…I think I'm just afraid."

"Afraid of what?" he asked.

Hermione sighed, pulling a bit roughly at a large clump of grass.

"There's a reason Memory Charms are dangerous, Harry," she said, staring at the clump in her hands.

She didn't say anything for a moment as she continued to stare, but she could feel his eyes on her.

"They're highly unstable and can sometimes have unprecedented effects which can, depending on the subject, be long-lasting," she stated as if she were simply answering a question in class.

"Like what happened with Lockhart," Harry said quietly.

Hermione nodded.

"But Hermione...you're brilliant at Charms," he continued in a small voice. "If anyone could have cast it perfectly, it would be you."

She sniffed softly, blinking her eyes rapidly to keep any tears at bay. "So many things could have gone wrong," she said in a strained voice, looking up at him finally.

But as her eyes met green, a calming warmth instantly seemed to spread throughout her body.

"They'll be okay, you'll see," he said confidently. "When should we go? Do you want to leave tomorrow?"

Her forehead creased slightly. "Harry…you don't have to come with me. I mean, I didn't even expect you to…"

"Why wouldn't I come with you?" he asked, his brows knitted in confusion.

"Well, I don't know…I thought you might want to stay here with the Weasleys," she replied.

"I'm not going to let you go alone," he said, as if stating the obvious.

"I don't need your protection," Hermione said in exasperation.

"This isn't about protecting you," he stated incredulously. "Believe me, I know you can do that plenty well yourself."

"Then what's it about?"

His eyes shifted left to right. "I dunno—being there for you…" he spluttered out, as if the words seemed too uncomfortable to admit aloud.

Hermione stared at him for a moment before allowing a small, amused smile to form on her face.

"I mean it, Hermione," he added. "You were by my side through everything. It's my turn now."

She hadn't known just how much she craved his touch until she threw her arms around him in a fierce embrace. The feel of his arms placed gently around her, holding her and supporting her made her feel so incredibly whole that she never wanted to let go. She breathed him in deeply as she rested her head on his shoulder, his familiar scent sending her heart aflutter.

After a while she reluctantly pulled away. "Thank you," she said sincerely, looking into his eyes.

His face immediately hardened, however. "There's nothing to thank me for," he replied, turning his head away.

Hermione thought this statement absurd especially considering his most recent accomplishment, but somehow she didn't think she should voice this aloud.

"Maybe you don't think so, Harry," she said, sighing. "But I have to strongly disagree with you."

He didn't respond. He didn't even look at her.

Hermione smiled sadly to herself before standing up from her spot on the ground. "C'mon, it's getting dark," she said, proffering her hand to him.

He accepted it, letting her pull him up, and the pair walked wordlessly back to the house.

* * *

><p>Dinner that night was a quiet affair, as usual, with everyone picking at their food dispassionately. Mrs. Weasley, looking older than Hermione had ever seen her, set to preparing George's plate to be sent up to his bedroom, as had been the daily custom these past three weeks.<p>

"I'll send it up, Mum," Ginny offered, pushing her plate of uneaten food away from her.

"No," Mrs. Weasley replied, staring determinedly at the table as she stood up. "George is eating with us tonight."

Everyone glanced up surreptitiously at this proclamation.

"I will not allow him to lock himself in that room any longer. Enough is enough," she stated in a no-nonsense manner.

Though Hermione was sure she could detect a definite waver in her voice.

"Mum…" Ron said, almost tiredly.

Mrs. Weasley ignored him, however, as she marched up the stairs resolutely.

No one dared say a word as they all waited with bated breath for the impending disaster that was sure to transpire.

And sure enough, not moments later, they could hear shouting emanating from the second floor landing. Not for the first time, Hermione felt as if she was invading on the very personal and private lives of the Weasleys, and she tried her best to not make eye contact with Ron or Ginny lest they grow even more uncomfortable with the situation.

She could hear Ginny sniffling quietly and her heart ached terribly for her friend. But before she could even think of some way to comfort her, her thoughts were interrupted by Mrs. Weasley bounding noisily down the steps, her own sobs increasing steadily in volume. The woman raced past all of them toward the back door of the kitchen, slamming it shut behind her and causing them to jump slightly.

The silence that ensued at the table was nearly deafening now, and Hermione could feel her face heating up at the tension.

"Why don't you go after her," Ron suggested to Ginny quietly.

Hermione looked up to see Ginny's eyes flash with anger. "Why don't _you_, Ron?" she bit back. "Or have you forgotten that she's your mother, too? I'm with her every second of the day trying to comfort her while you wallow up in your room as if you're the only one who feels any pain! _Well, you're not!"_

Ginny slid her chair back roughly, tears falling freely down her face now as she ran up the staircase, slamming her bedroom door behind her.

At that moment Mr. Weasley walked through the kitchen, having just returned home from work. "What's happened? Why is your mother outside?" he asked Ron, the exhaustion clear in his voice.

"She tried to get George to come down and eat with us," he replied.

Mr. Weasley sighed heavily as he pulled out a chair and slumped against it. With an unpleasant jolt, Hermione noticed that where once the man's balding hair was as bright and fiery as his children's, it had now turned almost completely grey.

"Why don't you three head upstairs," he said in an understanding tone. "I'll clean up here."

Hermione felt a rush of sympathy for the Weasley patriarch, and once again found herself wishing there was something, anything she could do to lessen the immeasurable grief felt by each and every member of the once joyful family. But there was nothing.

Up on the first floor landing, Hermione turned to Harry who, like her, had not said a word throughout dinner.

"I don't think we should leave tomorrow."

"Hermione…" he began, as if to disagree with her.

"Ginny needs me, Harry. Now more than ever. You saw how upset she was," she insisted quietly.

"Yes, but your parents need you, too," he reminded her.

As if she needed the reminder.

Hermione swallowed hard. "I know. I just—let me just talk to her first. I'm worried about her."

Harry gave a long-winded sigh, rubbing his eyes tiredly underneath his glasses. "I understand, Hermione. I just wish you could worry about _you_ for once," he said, turning from her and ascending up the stairs.

She internally scoffed, thinking about how absurdly hypocritical that statement was coming from Harry Potter of all people.

Nonetheless, Hermione knocked on Ginny's door softly and proceeded to enter when she heard a muffled "come in."

She found Ginny sitting cross-legged on her bed, clutching a pillow tightly to her chest as if afraid it might disappear from her. She was no longer crying, but her eyes were red and puffy as she stared ahead at some indistinct point on the wall.

Hermione wordlessly approached her and took a seat on the bed.

"Ron's a prat," Ginny stated, sounding slightly congested.

"I know."

She sighed, leaning back against the headboard and closing her eyes for a moment. "I don't even have the energy to be angry at him, though," she said, staring up at the ceiling.

"Everyone mourns differently, Ginny," Hermione said softly. "You might not be afraid to show your emotions in front of your mum or your dad or even your brothers. But…maybe Ron is afraid."

"That still gives him no excuse to just forget about everybody else," the redhead replied, gritting her teeth roughly.

"I know," Hermione agreed sadly. "And it's not fair to you, I know. You may all be hurting equally, but Ginny…if you're strong enough to bring some comfort to your family, then you should use that strength."

Hermione watched as she picked silently at a loose thread on her pillow.

"What if I can't be strong anymore?" she replied finally, a fresh wave of tears falling rapidly down her face.

Hermione immediately positioned herself right next to Ginny and wrapped her arms around the now shaking girl, gently smoothing down her hair. She could feel her own eyes starting to blur with unshed tears as the knot in her heart grew tighter.

Never in her worst nightmares did she think she would have to hold a sobbing Ginny in her arms. Happy, witty, fiery Ginny. It was just too unnatural, too outrageous.

"I just miss him so much," she whimpered, attempting to catch her breath as she hyperventilated. "_I miss him so much."_

Hermione felt a wetness on her own cheeks now and shut her eyes painfully as the girl continued this shaky mantra over and over until she was too exhausted to say one more word. For a moment it even seemed that she had fallen asleep. But then just like that, Ginny was sitting up again, pillow in her arms and staring at the wall as if nothing had happened since Hermione had entered the room.

The two girls sat in silence for a long time, both dwelling on their individual thoughts. Then suddenly, Ginny sighed, shaking her head and giving a sniff of what could have been amusement.

Hermione stared curiously at the girl, and sure enough her lips seemed to upturn into the smallest of smiles and her eyes held a spark of life that had been absent for some time.

"You know, whenever I think about him…all I can remember are his stupid pranks and gags and his mischievous smirk and cheeky tongue. How can he make me want to laugh, even now?" she asked, almost desperately.

"Oh, Ginny…don't you see?" Hermione replied, taking hold of the girl's shoulders. "That's _exactly_ what he would have wanted! To make you laugh. To make everyone laugh."

"I know…but…it's just…."

Ginny groaned in frustration, seeming unable to express her thoughts in words. Then finally she spoke: "Will it ever get easier? Tell me it'll get easier. Please, Hermione. Lie to me if you have to."

"Ginny…I—I know that I can't even begin to imagine how you must be feeling," she started slowly. "But you and your family are the strongest, most courageous family that I've ever met. I know you'll get through this. I know it."

Ginny sat silently for a moment as if fully attempting to absorb these words. Then finally she whispered a small "thank you" before pulling Hermione into the most emotion-filled hug the two girls had ever shared.

* * *

><p>Hermione awoke the next morning to find Ginny still sleeping soundly in her bed. Tip-toeing gently so as not to wake her, she made her way quietly out of the room. But as she closed the door behind her, she looked up to find herself face to face with Harry.<p>

"Oh, _God_," she spluttered, placing a hand on her heart. "You scared me!"

"I was going to knock," he said, somewhat defensively.

"I just woke up about two minutes ago, and Ginny's still asleep. Who goes knocking on people's doors this early?" she retorted, walking past him to head to the loo.

"It's nine o'clock," Harry replied following her. "Everyone else is awake."

"Yes, well, we had a pretty emotional night," she said. "What did you want, anyway?"

"I talked to Ron last night about your situation. I figured he might want be with us when we go—"

"You told him he doesn't have to, right? I don't want him to feel like he's obligated," Hermione said hurriedly.

"Relax, Hermione. And let me finish, will you?" Harry replied wearily.

"Sorry."

"Right. As I was saying, I asked him if he wanted to go, and he said he thought we should both be with you, but…I think he really took Ginny's words to heart last night."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"He feels guilty," Harry stated quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets. "He's been avoiding everyone for the past three weeks, and I guess Ginny finally made him realize how much of an arse he's being."

"Harry!" she scolded.

"His words, not mine," he said, holding up his hands. "Anyway, he wanted to come, but he feels like he needs to stay here with his family right now."

Hermione contemplated these words for a moment. She felt a small surge of pride for her best friend. She knew all of this was very difficult for Ron, but the fact that he was trying so hard to change was an admirable feat in her opinion.

She thought of something, suddenly that brought a small smile onto her face.

"What?" Harry asked.

"You two had a talk last night, then," she pointed out.

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, we have those occasionally."

"I'm trying to picture this mentally, but it's just not coming," Hermione replied.

"We're blokes, Hermione, not dementors."

She laughed softly. "I know, I know, I'm only joking."

She then stared at him seriously. "There's a lot to talk about, isn't there?"

Harry's eyes seemed to harden for a moment before he merely shrugged and looked away.

Hermione exhaled softly. "Right, well, why don't we head down to breakfast, then," she suggested.

He followed her down the stairs, albeit somewhat grudgingly. It was no secret that everyone at the Burrow currently dreaded mealtimes. They were always a quiet affair filled only with Mrs. Weasley's constant urgings for everyone to eat. And she seemed to have a special vendetta against Harry, much to his own dismay.

Hermione secretly had to agree with the woman on this account. Harry was looking much too pale and sickly these days, and she could clearly see dark circles etched beneath his eyes. It didn't exactly surprise her, but it worried her endlessly, nonetheless.

"Have some more eggs, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, as if reading Hermione's thoughts.

But Harry politely declined, as usual, causing Mrs. Weasley to purse her lips and mutter something along the lines of 'much too thin'.

Suddenly, they all heard a creak on the staircase, and as one turned to look behind them. There in the kitchen doorway stood George, staring awkwardly at the floor with a small frown on his face.

"Oh, _Georgie_!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed at once, rushing over to him. "Come, come, we've only just started!"

George chose not to look at anyone as he allowed himself to be dragged toward the table by his mother.

"Go on, sit right here next to Ron, that's it," she said gently, rubbing his back soothingly.

Mrs. Weasley continued to mumble small words of comfort as she filled his plate, and as Hermione chanced a glance up, she noticed the woman's eyes seemed to be filling with tears. But for once, they didn't appear to be of sadness.

The atmosphere of the room, in general, felt less tense than it had in days. Indeed, George's appearance at breakfast had been a small, but wonderful feat, and Hermione felt a small smile appear on her face as she noticed out of the corner of her eye, Harry reaching for a second helping of eggs.

* * *

><p>The day had finally arrived. She and Harry had gone over the plan with the rest of the Weasleys, and with the help of Mr. Weasley they would be transported by Portkey to Australia in just a little over ten minutes.<p>

"Please be careful, you two," Mrs. Weasley whispered fervently as she brought Hermione into a fierce embrace and then moved on to Harry.

"We'll be fine, Mrs. Weasley," Harry assured her, his voice slightly muffled.

She held his face out at arm's length. "You'll take care of each other, yes?" she stated, as if to convince herself.

"Of course," they both replied.

Hermione felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to face Ron.

"Just say the word," he said. "I'll go upstairs and pack right now and be back before you know it."

She rolled her eyes. "Ron, for the hundredth time, we've been over this: you don't have to feel guilty," she insisted. "For Merlin's sake, I didn't even expect Harry to come with me."

Ron sighed heavily.

"Your family needs you," she said quietly, reaching out to touch his arm. "Be there for them."

He nodded wordlessly, and then leaned in to give her a hug.

She and Ginny also shared an embrace before Hermione turned to the group at large and said: "We'll be back before you know it."

And with that, she and Harry both reached out to place a finger on the broken wireless, and Hermione felt the familiar tug on her navel as the Burrow disappeared around them.

Nearly a second later, they both landed in a not-so-graceful heap on the ground of a heavily wooded forest.

"Where are we?" Harry asked, wiping the dirt off his jeans as he stood up.

"Australia," she replied.

Harry gave her a look that clearly stated he wasn't amused.

"Queensland, to be more specific," she amended with a chuckle.

He nodded, taking a look around. "Any particular reason you chose it?"

Hermione shrugged. "My mum came here once when she was young. She claimed it was her favourite holiday ever, but that's not really saying much considering it was the only time she left England," she explained, as they slowly made their way through the thicket of trees.

"I've never really met your parents, have I?" Harry mused.

Hermione turned to look at him, a thoughtful expression on her face. "No…" she stated, slowly. "But not for lack of trying."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, running hair-first into a leafy branch.

"Mind your head," she instructed with a light laugh. "And my parents have wanted to meet you and Ron ever since I first told them about you."

"So why haven't we?" he asked.

Hermione thought about it for a moment before shrugging once again. "I'm not really sure. We've always just stayed at the Burrow over the holidays…They would have liked to meet you though, especially my dad."

"Why's that?"

Hermione smiled wistfully to herself. "He's a nut for magic. He has to restrain himself from telling every person he meets that his daughter is a witch—well, 'magical' is the word he'd prefer."

At Harry's questioning look, she explained: "Dad doesn't like calling me a witch. He claims it has bad connotations."

Harry smiled at that. "How did he react when you got your Hogwarts letter?"

"He fainted."

Harry let out a bark of laughter. "What, you're serious?"

"Unfortunately," Hermione replied. "The rest of the discussion had to be carried out between Professor Dumbledore and my mum as I tried unsuccessfully to revive him."

"Once he finally woke up, he made Dumbledore cast a bunch of spells. Not because he wanted proof or anything, but because he thought it was just about the coolest thing in the world," she continued with a laugh.

"He sounds like the muggle version of Mr. Weasley," Harry pointed out.

Hermione let out a very un-ladylike snort. "Yes, I suppose he does."

They continued walking in silence for a bit, both buried deep in their own thoughts.

"What's your mum like?"

Hermione remained silent for a moment, allowing a deep feeling of nostalgia to suddenly wash over her.

"Well…she's like my best friend," she replied, softly.

Harry looked at her curiously, as if he wasn't expecting that answer.

"I told you before how I wasn't exactly the most popular child in school. I didn't really have any friends before you and Ron, so my mum was my friend—still is," she explained. "She's extremely bright, warm-hearted, supportive, unbelievably selfless…"

Hermione paused, feeling her throat starting to constrict. _God, she missed her parents…_

"She's sounds a lot like you," Harry stated.

Hermione stared at him, eyebrows creased together in a doubtful look. "I don't know about that…"

Harry shrugged. "Guess I'll be the judge of that when I meet her."

Hermione smiled to herself. "She's been just about dying to meet you," she stated, before freezing slightly in her spot as she realized what she'd just said.

She felt her face heat up instantly, and refused to look into Harry's eyes.

"Why's she dying to meet me?" he asked curiously, apparently not noticing the sudden lag in Hermione's footsteps.

"Er…" she said, rushing forward to meet his pace again. "You know…you're Harry Potter and all that."

"Your mum's a muggle," Harry responded in clear confusion.

"Well…yes…but, I've told her stories, obviously," she replied, faintly.

Harry laughed. "I'm surprised you spoke so highly of me. I would have thought for sure you'd tell her how much of a stubborn, homework-leeching, git I really am."

"Oh, don't you worry. She knows all about that…and much, _much_ more," Hermione said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked warily.

She threw him a mysterious look, before jumping over a branch and running full pelt towards the opening of the forest, Harry's cries of "Hermione!" echoing behind her.

She stopped suddenly once she reached the side of the road, causing Harry to run right smack into her back.

"Bloody hell!" he shouted, grabbing onto her shoulders as they both nearly toppled over. "Merlin, Hermione, don't do that."

She was too busy trying to catch her breath to respond.

_Clearly someone hasn't run in a while…and Harry's hands aren't really helping the whole breathing thing, either…_

As if hearing her thoughts, Harry let go of Hermione and brought his hands to his knees as he attempted to steady his breathing, as well.

"Any reason you decided to become an Olympic runner?" he asked, wiping his forehead with his sleeve.

"I thought it would be fun," she said, shrugging. "Plus we got here quicker."

Harry looked around at the open road ahead of them. "Why couldn't we have just portkeyed here?"

"Ministry regulation. You're not supposed Portkey into areas where muggles might see you," she explained. "We're about a five minute walk from my parents' house."

As Hermione said this, she immediately felt a familiar stab of nervousness. A thousand different scenarios popped into her mind of all the things that could go wrong, and she could feel her confidence wavering.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, noticing the sudden change in her demeanour.

"I don't know," she sighed, wringing her hands anxiously.

Harry placed his own hand atop hers in an effort to halt her movements, and she revelled in his warm touch as it seemed to instantly calm her nerves.

She looked up into his eyes and he smiled gently at her. "Come on," he urged.

Hermione nodded, breathing in deeply. She was very grateful that he still had not let go of her hand as they began to walk down the road and into a quaint little neighbourhood with similar houses lined up along the street.

Had it been any other occasion, her heart would have surely been fluttering like mad at his touch. Right now, however, it only just managed to keep her from being sick all over the ground.

She came to a halt outside of Number Seventeen.

"Have you thought about what you're going to say?" Harry asked.

"Incessantly."

"And…did you come to a decision?"

"Not even in the slightest."

"Right…" Harry said, looking around as if for inspiration. "Somehow I don't think they'd take it very well if we went barging in claiming that you were their long-lost daughter."

Hermione could only nod as she was beginning to feel sick again.

Harry's eyes paused on something behind her, and then they suddenly lit up. "Got it!"

She heard him mutter a spell under his breath, and turned to see a sign from the neighbour's lawn situating itself next to them, instead. He then began walking her up the path leading to her parent's house.

"Harry? Harry, what are you—?"

"Just play along," he answered.

He rang the doorbell and they both waited, Hermione trying her best to appear normal as her stomach twisted itself into uncomfortable knots. She looked over at Harry, and her eyes went wide as she quickly removed a leaf from his hair just as the front door opened.

She felt her breath catch in her throat as she came face to face with her father for the first time in over a year.

"Hello," he said pleasantly. "Can I help you?"

"Er—"

"Good afternoon, sir," Harry said, effectively cutting her off. "My wife and I are here about the open house."

Hermione was certain that if she had been drinking anything at that precise moment, she would have spit it all up quite comically.

"Sorry?" her father asked, a look of bizarre confusion on his face.

"The open house, sir," Harry reiterated, pointing to the seemingly innocent sign in the front yard.

Hermione watched as her dad craned his neck to observe the sign, and she wondered briefly how Harry was possibly going to pull this off.

"I'm sorry," her dad stated. "There seems to be some sort of mistake, that sign isn't—"

"Er…listen, Mr…?"

"Wilkins."

"Right, Mr. Wilkins. Would you mind terribly if we had a quick private word?" Harry asked politely.

Looking slightly taken-aback, he hesitated before shaking his head.

"Excellent. Hermione, dear, give us just a second, will you?" Harry said, before taking her father aside for their private conversation.

Hermione could only stare at him, her mouth slightly open in surprise. She had absolutely no idea what was going on. However, she had to admit that this whole bizarre set-up was quite worth it if only to be on the receiving end of one of Harry's endearments.

'_Dear'…I could definitely get used to that…_

Shaking her head of thoughts of marriage life with Harry, Hermione looked up to see her father nodding his head in what appeared to be an understanding way and Harry giving him a friendly clap on the back.

"Why don't you two step inside while I go call my wife," her father suggested as both men walked back over to where Hermione was standing.

"Thank you very much, sir," Harry said, as he put his arm around Hermione's lower back and led her inside.

Once her father was out of earshot, she turned to face a smug looking Harry Potter. "What in the world did you tell him?" she demanded.

Harry grinned. "I just explained that after a two hour trip, I would have a heavily vexed wife on my hands if it had all been for nothing, and if he could please just play along for at least five minutes until I can come up with a valid reason why this house just wouldn't work for us."

"And he just accepted that and allowed us into his home?"

"Well…I may have used a well-placed Confundus Charm…"

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "You Confunded my father?"

"Just be glad it worked," he whispered to her discreetly as husband and wife walked down the stairs towards them.

Hermione could tell her mother was quite uncomfortable with the situation. And really, who could blame her?

"Hello," her mum greeted unsurely. "Welcome to our home…why don't we um—why don't we show you the sitting room first?"

They both nodded as they followed her parents through the door.

"You need to distract them, Harry. It should only take a few seconds," she whispered.

He nodded dutifully.

"So, Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins…

Hermione waited with bated breath and pounding heart for just the right moment. Bringing her wand up, she focused all her thought and energy onto the task before her. She only had one shot at this, and she had to do it perfectly.

She vaguely registered Harry mentioning something about skylights before whispering the fated incantation at last.

For a moment, all was silent in the house.

Then:

"Who are you?"

Hermione snapped her head up, a wave of dread crashing into her as she looked up at her father's voice.

But then just like that, she breathed a sigh of relief. He was still staring at Harry.

"Dave…" her mother said suddenly, grabbing her husband's arm. "This is…aren't you…you're…"

"Mum," Hermione nearly whispered. "Dad."

Both Grangers turned around.

"Hermione?" her mother asked.

Hermione could feel tears immediately well up in her eyes.

Her name had never sounded sweeter.

* * *

><p>"I just don't understand…" her father said. "How could we forget that we had a daughter?"<p>

After the initial reunion with her parents, reality seemed to have sunk in and Hermione knew that the time had finally come for explanations.

She looked over at Harry who was still standing in his previous spot. He gave her a small smile of encouragement, then nodded his head toward the door as if to say "I'll be outside if you need me."

She smiled gratefully back at him before turning to her parents.

"Mum, Dad…we really need to talk."

"About what, dear?" her mother asked.

Hermione drew in a deep breath. "Everything. Everything I've never told you."

And talk, she did. She started from the very beginning, filling in the small, but significant details she'd always left out of her stories. How exactly she had become friends with Harry and Ron. Why she'd been petrified by the basilisk. Who saved Harry's godfather. And so on and so forth, taking them through her entire last year on the run.

Her parents had respectfully remained silent throughout, but she could tell there was deep turmoil raging behind both their eyes.

"And…you asked me before how you could forget you had a daughter. Well…I was the one who placed the Memory Charm on you," she stated quietly.

Her father gasped in shock.

"Hermione…why would you do such a thing?" Mr. Granger exclaimed.

"It was a war, Dad. And not only was I a muggleborn, I was right in the middle of everything as well, and I had to keep you safe—"

"You're eighteen years old!" he shouted, standing up suddenly. "What place did you have in a war?"

Hermione knew this was coming. Besides the few exclamations here and there in the more frightening parts, she could tell by the increasing frown on her father's face that he would not be able to take much more.

"I had to keep you both safe," she repeated. "They would have come after you straight away—"

"That's not your job," he exclaimed, slamming his hand down on a nearby table. "That's not your job, Hermione! _We're_ the parents—we're supposed to keep _you_ safe!"

Hermione looked up into her father's eyes. For the first time, she could hear a trace of desperation in his voice.

"I've wanted to keep you locked up ever since you came home that summer and told us about some man named Voldemort coming back to life. I wanted so badly to be able to shield you from harm, but I couldn't do anything! I was utterly useless!"

Hermione could feel her heart sinking as she continued to stare into her father's now glistening eyes and her mother's bowed head.

"Do you know what that feels like, Hermione? To be utterly useless to your child? To wake up one day in a different country with your daughter telling you that she just came back from fighting a war! _You can't do that! _You just…you can't do that…"

"Dad…"

"You're my little girl…" he choked out.

"Daddy…"

She rushed into his arms where he immediately enveloped her in a near suffocating hug. She could feel him openly crying into her hair now.

"Why'd you have to be so smart and so brave and so perfect?" he whispered into her hair.

"Surely we can't take all the credit for that."

Hermione looked up at her mother's voice, and saw tear streaks running down the woman's face as well.

She could feel her dad reluctantly let her go as her mum came closer.

"Oh, Hermione…" she said, cupping her daughter's cheeks. "I don't know whether to scream at you for being so reckless or burst into a million pieces with pride."

"I would prefer the latter," Hermione suggested.

Her mother sighed heavily. "You were always so special. Even when you were little, you were so headstrong and opinionated. And you would have torn down the world for the people you love. We just wish that—that we could have been there, helping you."

"You did help me. And you're _not _useless," Hermione insisted, speaking to both her parents now. "You may not have magical powers, but…you made me the person I am. I'm muggleborn. I get the best of both worlds. And I am _so lucky._"

Her mother gave her a watery smile before pulling her into an equally, if not more, strangling hug than her father.

"Hermione," her dad said suddenly. "You mentioned that you, Harry, and Ron were captured, and that…you were questioned."

Hermione swallowed hard and nodded, not making eye contact with either of her parents.

"I can't imagine they were very nice to you…"

She remained silent for a moment.

"No more secrets, Hermione," her mother said quietly, rubbing her back in a soothing manner.

"Please…" her dad whispered. But whether he was asking her to ease his worries or answer the question, she was not sure.

"She put the Cruciatus Curse on me."

Her mother's eyes widened. "Is that the one that—"

"Causes pain, yes."

"How much pain…?" her dad asked, fearfully.

"A lot."

He clasped a hand over his mouth, as if trying to prevent himself from shouting out.

"And…" Hermione began.

"There's more?" he asked, his voice cracking.

Hermione hesitated. She really didn't want to have to show them, but she knew they would see it eventually.

So, with great trepidation she rolled up the sleeve of her jumper, revealing the still reddened '_mudblood' _for them to see.

Both her parents immediately gasped in horror.

"No…" her father said desperately. "No…no, no, no…"

Hermione looked away from her dad, tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

But then she heard a sob to the left of her. For the first time that day, her mother seemed to have finally lost control.

Her cool, calm, and collected mother was being pulled apart by the seams.

"Oh, my baby…_my baby,_" she cried, pulling Hermione close to her, and rocking her in her arms. "I'm so sorry…I'm so sorry…I wasn't there…I'm so sorry."

On and on her mother continued to whisper broken apologies in her ear. And for once, Hermione didn't pull away. She didn't argue or deny. She just let herself be comforted in her mum's arms, as tears spilled freely down her own face. It was like being a child again, but she revelled in it.

She couldn't tell how long she stayed there, but some time later, her mother finally pulled away to look into her daughter's eyes.

"Hermione…Oh, Hermione," she said, shakily, "You are _everything_ I could ever wish for in a daughter."

Hermione felt her heart swell as she stared into her mother's eyes.

It was the first time in such a long time that she felt whole. The first time, she felt truly healed. And it gave her hope.

"But a dragon, though? Really?" her dad proclaimed, breaking the silence. "You broke into a bank, and escaped on a dragon? Is this even normal in the wizarding world?"

For the first time since the start of the conversation, Hermione found herself laughing. "No, I don't think that's normal in any context."

* * *

><p>Hermione peeked through the window. She could see him sitting on the front porch staring into the now darkened sky.<p>

"Has that poor boy been out there the entire time?" her mum exclaimed softly.

Hermione looked guiltily up at her mother. "He didn't want to intrude…"

"Well, you better call him inside right this instant. His bum is probably so sore it's lost all feeling!" the older woman huffed.

"Mother!" Hermione said scandalized.

"Oh, don't give me that. Like you weren't thinking the exact same thing," she said, making Hermione's face heat up.

"I'm going to go bring him inside. You and Dad go sit in the kitchen or something. I don't want him emotionally scarred just yet."

Her mother huffed again. "Fine, but don't take too long. You know how much I've been dying to talk to him," she said, throwing her daughter a significant look.

Hermione merely rolled her eyes before slipping silently through the front door.

Harry's head shot up when he heard her.

"Hey," she said softly, taking a seat next to him.

"How'd it go?" he asked immediately.

Hermione smiled. "It went well. I think everything's going to be okay."

Harry nodded. "I hate to say I told you so, but…"

"Prat," she responded, shoving him lightly as he smiled at her.

But his smile faltered for a bit as he turned to look at her seriously. "I'm really happy for you, you know. You deserve this," he said sincerely.

"Thank you," she replied, looking into his beautiful green eyes that seemed to shine brightly even in the dark. "And not just for that…Harry, I was wrong."

"About what?" he said, confused.

"When I said I didn't need you to come with me," she explained with a sigh. "Merlin, I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't been here. I'd probably still be in that forest."

"And let's not even get started on how much of an emotional wreck I'd be in," she continued. "I would've probably vomited at least twice on the way here. And how, pray tell, would I have cast the charm on my parents without them noticing? Hmm? As if I could multitask long enough not to vomit a third time all over the carpet—"

"Can we please stop talking about vomit?"

Hermione cleared her throat. "Right, sorry," she conceded. "But anyway, you get the picture."

"Unfortunately," Harry grimaced.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is, well, thank you…again," Hermione finished, giving him a warm smile.

"You don't have to thank me, you know. I already told you before…you've been by my side through everything, and I was more than glad to be able to do something for you."

Hermione stared down into her worn out trainers. "Harry, please don't think that you have to repay me for anything. You're my best friend…and best friends don't keep tabs," she insisted.

"Yeah, well…it still feels nice to do something for you, once in a while," he replied.

"Well then, I'll be sure to remember and exploit that line of thinking in the future," Hermione said, grinning cheekily at him.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"C'mon," she said, standing up. "I bet you're pretty sore from sitting here for so long. Why don't we go inside?"

"Are you sure that's alright with your parents? They're not…angry at me or anything, are they?" he asked, uncertainly.

It was Hermione's turn to roll her eyes. "Yes, Harry. They are absolutely livid with you for erasing their memories of their only daughter. Oh, wait…That was me!"

"You know that's not what I'm talking about," he responded, not amused.

Hermione sighed. "Harry, I can promise you that throughout our entire talk neither of my parents ever once blamed you for anything. It was my choice to place a memory charm on them, and it was _my_ choice to be involved in the war," she stated. "If anything…they're proud of you."

Harry looked completely taken aback.

Hermione shook her head, smiling slightly. "Why so shocked, Harry?" she said, almost sadly. "I know you probably don't want to hear this, but…you've done something truly incredible."

He turned away from her and she could see his jaw clench tightly in the way it always seemed to lately.

She sighed softly to herself. There was still so much to be said, so much they had to work through, such a long way to go.

But not tonight.

Tonight, Harry would finally meet with her parents and they would all sit down and have a pleasant dinner and they would pretend like everything was normal.

Just for tonight, she wanted things to be normal.

* * *

><p>AN: Well...um...*coughs* I know it's been like 38409 years since I last updated, but...better late than never right? Hopefully? I promise there will DEFINITELY not be this long of a wait for the next chapter. Especially since summer is rapidly approaching and I'll have waaaay more free time. So yeah, I'm extremely sorry and to all of you who have faithfully waited for an update, I love you all. Seriously. You guys are amazing and I appreciate every single review I receive so much. I really hope you enjoy this chapter, I've made it extra long! Once again, I apologize immensely and I love you. There's not enough love in the world so: I love you. Okay, now I'm just typing 3 am ramblings. Good night/day! Let me know what you think, bye!


	36. Chapter 36

_For most of the early years of my life, my parents had to fit the role of both guardian and friend. And we built a relationship that many people who were my age simply didn't share. Therefore, it was a slightly worrisome ordeal to bring home a friend for the first time. A friend I was in love with, might I add. _

_But I needn't have worried about Harry. _

_And I didn't, really. I knew my parents would love him. What was there not to love? He was charming, kind, humble. At the risk of sounding biased, he was pretty perfect. _

_That day I felt a sort of contentment well up inside of me. It was like two of my worlds had been butting heads for the longest time, and then were finally able to merge. And it was easy and simple and wonderful. _

* * *

><p>Once Harry and Hermione entered the sitting room, not five minutes passed before they were bombarded by both Granger parents.<p>

"I thought we agreed you'd wait in the kitchen," Hermione whispered to her mum, as she watched her father march straight over to Harry.

Harry's eyes widened an almost imperceptible amount as Mr. Granger settled himself an uncomfortably close distance away from him.

Hermione could only sigh as she watched her dad open his mouth.

"So, you're the Potter boy, are you?" he said, putting slightly vehement emphasis on the word 'Potter'.

"Er…yes," Harry replied.

Mr. Granger folded his arms across his chest. "You don't sound too sure," he stated, one eyebrow raised.

"Um—"

"So, let me get this straight," Mr. Granger interrupted in a menacing manner. "You and that _Weasley_…were in a tent with _my_ daughter…_alone_…for how long?"

"Dave…" Mrs. Granger warned.

"Go on, answer," Mr. Granger demanded, ignoring her.

"Er…well—I," Harry started nervously, shooting Hermione a helpless look.

But Hermione merely sighed again.

"Don't you go looking at her for help," her father reproached. "Answer!"

Harry gulped quite audibly. "Well, um…it was about a year, I suppose… I'm really sorry, sir. She had her own room, I swear. We—we never…"

But the rest of his sentence seemed to trail off as he stared at the older man in confusion.

Hermione looked up at her dad's face to see the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.

And just like that, he burst out into a fit of laughter.

Harry continued to stare blankly back at the man, his eyebrows creased in something like bewilderment or even fear.

Hermione couldn't help but let out a small giggle, as well. She most certainly did not approve of this 'initiation' as her father liked to call it. But even she had to admit it was somewhat funny to see Harry turn white as a sheet.

"All right, Dave, settle down. You're scaring the poor boy," Mrs. Granger said, walking up to the pair and moving her still chuckling husband rather forcefully away.

"But did you see his face?" Mr. Granger exclaimed, his voice rising in pitch. "I swear I could bottle that and keep it forever."

Hermione groaned. "Okay, enough!" she said finally, pulling Harry towards her in a somewhat protective manner. "You've had your fun, Dad. Are we done?"

"Yeah, yeah. All done," her father said, catching his breath at last. "For now…"

Hermione threw her mother a pointed look. "This is the emotional scarring I was talking about," she hissed.

Mrs. Granger merely smiled in amusement, before walking over to Harry, who had remained in a dazed silence throughout.

"I'm really sorry, Harry," she said with a kind smile. "You'll have to excuse my husband. It's been his life mission since Hermione was born to scare away any boy she ever brought home."

"Including friends," she added quickly at Hermione's piercing gaze.

Harry let out an amused chuckle at last, running a hand through his hair. "It's fine, Mrs. Granger," he assured her. "I would certainly hate to deprive him of that opportunity."

"And you reacted most admirably, in my opinion," Mr. Granger added enthusiastically, walking over to clap a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Just as flushed and nervous as I had hoped you'd be."

"You knew about this?" Harry turned to Hermione, his eyebrow raised in question.

"Maybe…maybe not," she shrugged, a playful smirk plastered on her face.

"See, now that's just cruel," he said emphatically, causing her to laugh.

"How about we start over with some real introductions this time," Mrs. Granger suggested. "I'm Jane Granger, Hermione's mother, obviously. It's so good to finally meet you, Harry, we've heard so much about you."

"Don't worry, all good things," Mr. Granger added, dismissing Harry's non-existent fears. He stepped up to shake the younger boy's hand. "David Granger, but you can call me 'sir' or 'oh, wise one'."

Hermione groaned.

"Could you not behave like a child for once in your life?" his wife told him, tersely.

Mr. Granger merely shrugged his shoulders, winking at Harry with a good-natured smile.

Hermione felt a pleasing sensation of warmth wash over her as she saw Harry's face break out into a wide grin. She hadn't seen a grin on him like that in ages. It was the kind that filled his hollowed cheeks, concealed the darkness under his eyes, and illuminated his pallid skin.

She could feel someone's eyes on her as a small smile began to form on her own face, and turned to see her mother staring intently at her.

Hermione looked away quickly, a flush creeping up her neck.

"Well," her father declared, clapping his hands together, "why don't we continue our little introductions over dinner?"

"Yes, you two must be starving," Mrs. Granger added, eyeing Harry's thin frame with concern.

As the two men walked into the kitchen, Hermione pulled her mother aside.

"Steer clear of conversations of the war," she said quietly. "He…doesn't really like to talk about it."

Her mother nodded in understanding, then furrowed her brows slightly.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, seeing the look on her mum's face.

Mrs. Granger sighed. "Hermione, that boy is not okay," she said seriously. "It looks as if he hasn't eaten or slept in months."

"I know," she replied, resignedly.

The older woman crossed her arms, a stern look on her face. "You have to take care of him, Hermione. He needs you now more than ever. And if you're not careful…he'll slip through your fingers in the worst kind of way," she said gravely.

Hermione looked down, her stomach squirming uncomfortably.

"Hey," her mother said gently, lifting her chin up so their faces were at eye level. "Just be there for him like you have been all along, right?"

Hermione nodded, exhaling heavily.

"Now, come on. It's never a good idea to leave anyone alone with your father."

Just as the words left the older woman's mouth, they both heard a loud crash emanating from the kitchen.

They immediately rushed towards the room only to find the remnants of a piece of china scattered all over the ground.

"Harry did it," Mr. Granger said immediately, pointing at the boy next to him.

"Wait—what?" Harry spluttered, snapping his head up from the destruction. "I didn't—"

"Oh, honestly, Dave, I gave you one task!" Mrs. Granger exclaimed, hurrying forward to clear the mess away. "Are you all right, Harry? No cuts or scrapes? You didn't step in any of it, did you?"

"Mum, he's not five," Hermione interjected.

"Right," Mrs. Granger said distractedly. "Hand me that broom, dear, so I clean this up."

"Wait!" Mr. Granger exclaimed, suddenly, an eager look on his face. "Hermione, you can just magic this away, can't you?"

"I can do one better," Hermione stated smugly. "I can fix the plate right up."

"Ooh, she _is_ good," Mr. Granger said, patting Harry's arm excitedly while Harry merely stared back at him.

Hermione proceeded to pull out her wand and then cleared her throat dramatically. "_Reparo!_" she exclaimed.

And just like that, all the pieces reformed perfectly into their original form and landed neatly on the table top.

Mr. Granger clapped enthusiastically, while Hermione bowed in a grandiose fashion.

"I promise, we're usually quite normal," she heard her mum mutter to Harry who merely laughed in return.

After the whole fiasco was over, the four finally settled around the dinner table.

"Please excuse us, Harry. We didn't know we would be having company, so it's not quite as extravagant as I'd hoped it would be the first you'd join us," Mrs. Granger stated.

"Oh! No, please—don't worry about it," he replied, quickly, looking somewhat embarrassed.

Mrs. Granger smiled warmly at him.

"So, tell us a bit about yourself," Mr. Granger directed toward him.

Harry looked up from his plate. "Er…" he managed, turning slightly flushed from all the attention. "Well…I'm…er…"

The three Grangers stared at him.

"Very eloquent?" Mr. Granger offered.

"_David!_"

But Harry merely smiled good-naturedly. "Yes, practically an orator."

"Oh, you're not _that_ bad," Hermione intervened, then turned to her parents. "He's just nervous."

"Very understandable," Mr. Granger stated. "I'm quite an intimidating man..."

"Well, what's your favourite subject in school?" Mrs. Granger asked enthusiastically.

Hermione mentally snorted. She knew for a fact that she mentioned this, along with many other details, about Harry countless times, before. But it was an easy enough question for him to answer, and a way to break the ice, she supposed.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts, I guess. It was my best one, anyway," he shrugged.

"Oh, yes, Hermione mentioned you were quite good in that subject," Mr. Granger said. "So good, in fact, that you beat her in those exams of yours. Now _that_ is a true feat, my son."

Harry smiled. "Well, I wouldn't want to rub salt on an old wound here…" he said, looking sideways at Hermione.

"Oh, shut it," she scowled.

"Hey, nobody likes a sore loser, Hermione," Mr. Granger pointed out, earning a nod of approval from Harry.

"Do you have any hobbies, anything you like to do in your free time?" Mrs. Granger continued on.

"Well, I play Quidditch—that's the wizarding sport," he replied. "I quite like flying."

"And he's amazing at it, too," Hermione added, matter-of-factly.

"I'm not that good," he quickly countered, pushing his food around in his plate, distractedly.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"He made the house team his very first year at Hogwarts, the youngest to do so in a _century_," she told her parents, feeling pride well up inside her at the impressed looks on both of their faces.

Harry only turned redder at their compliments, however, and he artfully brought a glass of water to his lips to avoid making any further comments.

Hermione simply shook her head and smiled to herself. She secretly adored his modesty. His nervous fidgeting, his flushed cheeks, the way he ran his fingers through his messy hair. It was so cute and endearing, so _Harry_.

Looking at him, she would never guess that this man would be able to defeat the greatest dark wizard in history. That innocent and gentle Harry could have the power to fight through death and destruction. He was an anomaly. Like two different people: the war hero and the reclusive boy.

_And I love them both_, she thought, as she continued to watch him converse with her parents.

"No! You're pulling my leg, aren't you?" her father exclaimed.

"I assure you, sir, I'm not," Harry replied, amused.

"You had to regrow _all_ the bones in your arm?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

Mrs. Granger gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. "Was it very painful?" she asked timidly.

"Oh no, dear, I'm sure it was an extremely enjoyable experience," her husband replied, sarcastically.

"Oh, shut it, you!" she retorted, smacking him on the arm.

"It was kind of painful, yeah," Harry admitted. "But, I mean, it does make for a good story."

Mr. Granger chortled loudly, nodding his head in agreement.

"And that makes it all worth it, I suppose?" his wife scolded, huffing to herself. "You men are strange creatures."

"She's just angry because I like to retell the story of the time at work when I ran head-first into the monitor, split my forehead open, and started bleeding profusely all over the patient," Mr. Granger explained to Harry. "And it didn't help that this particular patient had an aversion to blood, and ended up unconscious on the ground at the sight of it all."

"Huh…" the younger boy replied thoughtfully. "And they say a dentist's job isn't exciting."

"Who says that?" Mr. Granger asked sharply.

"Er…not me, that's for sure," Harry said quickly.

Mr. Granger levelled his gaze on him for a moment, before breaking out into a wide smile. "Yes, well, we're not all blessed with the choice to become dragon tamers or—or faeries or whatever."

"Neither are we…" Hermione commented, raising an eyebrow.

"Lies," her father declared suddenly, pointing his finger at her. "One of the Weasley boys works with dragons."

She immediately dropped her fork in exasperation. "How on earth does he remember that?" she complained to her mother, who merely shrugged in defeat.

"You ask me every time, and every time I have no response," the older woman replied.

"It's the Granger Gift, m'dear," her dad stated proudly, tapping a finger to his forehead.

"What's the Granger Gift?" Harry asked, amused.

Hermione scowled at her smirking father. "Abnormally, freakish memory," she explained.

Harry instantly let out a bark of laughter. "Don't worry, I think you inherited that gift just fine, Hermione," he assured her.

She turned to look at him. "What—you really think so?" she asked, trying to quell the earnestness in her tone.

He stared at her as if she'd just gone mad. "Have you forgotten that you were the best in our year? Or pretty much any year, really. And every time you answer a question in class you sound as if you've spewed out the textbook."

"Oh, you're just being sweet," she responded with a wave of her hand.

"No…no I'm really not," he said slowly. "Trust me, 'sweet' isn't exactly an attribute most blokes are queuing up to be called."

Hermione gave a sniff of amusement. "Well, fine then…I guess you kind of have a point—"

"What?" her dad spluttered through a mouthful of potatoes. He quickly gulped it down. "I've been telling you this your entire life, and now just cause Harry says so, you believe it?"

Hermione could see her mother trying and failing to fight back a smile.

"Oh, come on," she said, rolling her eyes. "I mean, I know I've always been…well…_intelligent_…but-"

"No, no I get it," her dad assured her. "The opinion of your father doesn't matter, but the opinion of a dashing, young lad, on the other hand—"

"_Dad!_" she exclaimed, feeling her face heat up instantly.

She didn't dare look over at Harry, and prayed silently that he wouldn't think anything of it. Not that he should…it wasn't as if her father had any clue about her real feelings towards the 'dashing, young lad,' himself.

Hermione mentally cringed. _Oh, wouldn't that be an atrocity...God, he would never let me live it down…_

"Sweetheart, it's a lovely night tonight," her mother addressed her a moment later. "Why don't you and Harry step outside for a bit while your father and I clean up in here."

"I could help," Harry offered, pushing his chair back and standing up.

"Nonsense, dear," the older woman replied with a smile, reaching for the plate in his hands. "You've both had a long day. Now go on and get some fresh air."

Waiting for both men to be out of earshot, Hermione leaned over to her mum. "You're not going to tell Dad about…you know," she said, tilting her head toward Harry.

"No, I don't know…"

"Mum…" Hermione said warningly.

A small, but secretive smile played on the older woman's face. "No, dear. I would never wish that sort of mental and emotional torture unto anyone."

She mouthed a quick 'thank you' before standing up to lead Harry away from her father and out the back door.

Once they were both outside, Hermione cleared her throat awkwardly. "Sorry about…all of that," she said, gesturing to the house behind her. "My dad's really a child at heart."

"I've noticed," Harry replied, amusement lacing his tone. "He's great, though. Both your parents are."

Hermione bit her lip as the pair started walking aimlessly. She then turned to him again. "You sure you're not lying?"

He threw her an exasperated look.

"Right," she responded quietly. "Well, I mean, he just comes off a little strong, Dad does."

"And he's great," Harry repeated emphatically. "Why are you so concerned, anyway? It's just _me_."

"I care about your opinion, Harry," she insisted, looking sideways at him. "I would hate it if you didn't like my parents for some reason."

"I'd be more worried about them not liking me."

Hermione snorted. "Oh, please. They're practically in love with you. My mum finds you incredibly sweet."

"Again with this whole 'sweet' business," Harry sighed, shaking his head.

She laughed heartily at him. "Would you like me to say it again? You are sweet, you are sweet, you are sweet," she repeated, grabbing onto his arms as he brought his hands up to cover his ears.

"You hear that everyone? HARRY POTTER IS SWEET!" she yelled out into the night.

He quickly covered her mouth. "Are you mental?" he hissed. "The neighbours could be sleeping!"

But Hermione merely dissolved into a fit of muffled laughter, relishing the tingle that shot through her as his palm brushed against her lips.

"Iss onne aydo clak!"

"Huh?" he asked in confusion.

She rolled her eyes and brought his hand away from her mouth. "I _said_, it's only eight o'clock."

"Yeah, well…you're still disturbing their peace," he said.

"I'll make sure and apologize next time I see them."

"That's all I ask."

They continued walking in a comfortable silence, not quite sure where they were heading, but enjoying the excursion nonetheless.

"You know what I just realized?" Harry asked some time later.

_That we should spend the rest of our lives together?_

"Hmm?" she replied, disregarding her wayward thoughts.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, kicking a small pebble on the ground. "Today was the first time I laughed in a while," he said.

Hermione stared thoughtfully into space. "It was, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," he responded. "But I'm not sure if I feel relieved or guilty."

"Yeah…yeah, I know what you mean," she admitted quietly.

Another small silence met her words, and Hermione found herself desperately searching for something to say. This was the first time that Harry had willingly broached the subject of his feelings, and she was terrified that if she said the wrong thing, he would immediately close up again.

However, before she could continue fretting, his voice interrupted her thoughts.

"I just keep…thinking about everyone, you know?" he said, not looking at her.

"Like who?" she asked carefully.

Harry blew out a puff of air, rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses. "I dunno—everyone. Ron, George, all the Weasleys. Mrs. Tonks. For Merlin's sake, Dennis Creevey."

"Everyone who's lost someone," she concluded, staring at the ground.

"Yeah," he replied in a low voice.

Hermione turned her head discreetly towards him. The expression on his face was a stark difference to what it had been throughout most of the day, and she was disappointed to see the familiar hollow look reappear in his eyes.

"It's just not fair, you know?" he declared, forcefully.

"I know," she practically whispered.

"I mean—they were all so young, right? Fred and Colin. And Lupin and Tonks just got married, just had a baby. They just had a baby, Hermione. _Teddy_. I saw him, you know? I saw him at his parent's funeral," Harry confessed. "And God, Hermione…he was so small. He was so tiny."

Seeing a bench up ahead, Hermione carefully sat Harry down as a flood of thoughts and emotions seemed to suddenly tumble from his mouth.

"And, you know, I—I come here with you, and I'm scared out of my mind that your parents will end up like Lockhart and it'll be all my fault. But then they're okay and I'm so relieved. And I'm happy because finally something went right. I laughed, Hermione, I _laughed_ and it felt so good," he uttered, staring into her eyes. He looked away again, shaking his head.

"But how can I feel good when everyone else around me is suffering?" he continued. "When I keep thinking over and over again how I could have done something different. Found the horcrux sooner, gone to Voldemort when he said to. And I know what you and everyone else will say. That it's not my fault, right? That everyone knew what they were getting into? Well, _none of it matters. _Because I _feel_ like it's my fault, okay? _Okay_?"

Harry's voice broke slightly at his last words, and he threw his head into his hands, his fingers clutching at his hair as he stared at the ground.

Hermione took in his hunched figure, her eyes burning with unshed tears. "Harry…" she whispered.

"I just wish…" he started, breathing heavily. "I wish that…"

She waited on baited breath for him to continue.

"I wish it was me instead," he choked out.

Hermione felt her heart stop. "No…" she said shakily.

"Why couldn't it have been me?" he repeated, ignoring her.

"Harry, no…" she pleaded uselessly.

"I walked into that forest prepared to die, but then somehow came out alive. Everyone else, though? They weren't prepared…not like I was. They weren't a bloody horcrux, they weren't '_Masters of Death_'," he said scathingly. "They were normal, innocent people!"

"But me? I WAS THE LUCKY ONE!" he shouted suddenly, with such disgust in his tone it was as if he had literally spit the words out. "The Chosen One! The Boy-Who-Lived!"

He paused, still breathing heavily, and then looked up into her eyes again.

"_The hero_…" he declared with a hatred that made his voice shake.

Hermione stared back at him with her eyebrows creased in sorrow.

"Tell me… how is that fair?" he begged in a broken voice.

"I don't know," she admitted in a strangled tone as tears slipped from her eyes.

"_Goddammit!"_ Harry cried out through clenched teeth. He threw his glasses forcefully to the ground, and immediately brought his hands to his face.

Though he made no sound, Hermione could tell he was crying by the way his upper body shook, and the sight only made her tears fall faster.

She brought her hand up to his hunched back and proceeded to rub it gently, knowing that no words could possibly bring him comfort right now. On and on, she moved her hand in soothing circles, acknowledging neither time nor space, focused only on her efforts.

She didn't know how long it took for Harry's shaking to finally subside. He remained in his bent position for a while afterwards, and Hermione was at a desperate loss as to what to do.

"Harry," she tried, gently. "Harry, look at me, please."

Sensing that he felt ashamed at his display, Hermione carefully removed his hands from his face, and held his head up to look at her.

She could physically feel her heart constrict at the sight of his bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks. He immediately tried to turn his head away, but Hermione remained resolute.

"Harry, look at me," she repeated. "Everyone needs to break down sometimes. You can't hold everything in forever. It'll eat away at you and make you feel even more miserable."

"What's the point?" he said thickly.

"Of crying, what's the point?" he explained at Hermione's questioning look. "It's not like I feel any better."

"Well, it's not always about feeling better," she responded, bringing her hands down. "We cry for the same reason we laugh, Harry. For release."

He didn't reply, but merely leaned back against the bench and stared out into the darkness, using his sleeve to wipe at his eyes, occasionally.

Hermione glanced sideways at him. "Can I tell you something?" she asked.

He looked at her, then nodded.

"That moment when—when Hagrid carried your body back from the forest…" She paused, feeling the same sense of dread wash over her at the memory. "We all thought you were dead."

Again, she paused, wringing her hands together anxiously. "I _never_ want to feel that way again… Not for a long, long time."

He continued to stare at her.

"Do you have _any_ _idea_ how devastated we all were?" she blurted out, piercingly. "I felt like—like my heart was ripped out of my chest. I was empty and miserable and shocked and angry and just…just devastated!"

"Oh, Harry…" she uttered defeatedly, slumping her shoulders. "How can you say that? _How can you say that?_ How can you sit there and tell me that you wish it was you?_"_

She shook her head, squeezing her eyes tight. "No…" she breathed. "No…"

"Hermione…" Harry mumbled faintly.

Before he could say anything else, though, she threw her arms around him and enveloped him in bone-crushing hug, as if afraid he might disappear if she didn't hold on tight enough.

Images of Hagrid carrying a dead Harry flashed before her mind's eye, making her insides twist and churn.

Her fingers clutched the back of his shirt, pulling him even closer and not caring for one second that he was very much bewildered.

_Don't ever leave me, _she thought, wildly. _Please don't ever leave me. _

"Please…" she whispered aloud. "Please don't ever leave…"

"Hermione," Harry tried again, attempting to pull her back so he could look at her. He stared intently into her eyes. "You're crying."

"No, I'm not," she denied stubbornly, wiping her eyes.

"Why are you crying?" he enquired, his voice filled with concern.

Hermione scoffed at his obliviousness. "Because I don't want to lose you!" she answered desperately, trying to make him understand.

A look of surprise flitted across his face, as if he couldn't believe something like that could ever cause her tears.

"Forget the Chosen One, forget the Boy-Who-Lived, forget all of that garbage. You are human. And you deserve to live and be happy just as much as anybody else," she said, grasping his hand firmly in hers. "And I know that it's going to take time for you and all of us to heal. But I need you to realize, Harry, that your life is worth so much more than you believe!"

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then closed it again, shaking his head slightly.

"What is it?" she asked, gently.

Harry looked like he was struggling to find the right words. "It's just—I don't really…" he began, making vague motions with his hands. "I don't—I don't know how."

Those simple words cut straight through Hermione's heart, and she was suddenly overcome by the strong desire to hold Harry in her arms like a small child and chase all his demons away.

She wondered briefly whether he'd ever been held by anyone. Whether anyone had ever brushed his hair back or kissed his head or told him how much he was loved.

Had anyone ever told him that they loved him? Anyone besides the parents that he couldn't even remember?

Hermione's heart ached deeply at the thought. But as she took his hand once more, she knew, now, what she had to do.

"All it takes is time," she finally responded, to which he nodded reluctantly.

"But, Harry, listen…" she added, looking into his face.

He stared back at her with a curious expression.

"I want you to know that…you're my best friend and you're one of the most important people in my life," she said seriously. "I love you, Harry. I need you to know that I love you."

Hermione spoke these three words knowing that he would interpret them the only way she wanted him to right now: as a love between friends. Between two people who had been to the end of the world together and back. Who cared for each other and supported each other and were willing to die for each other. There was nothing romantic about it, yet it was just as deep and strong and pure.

Harry stared blankly at her for a moment, and she knew by the look on his face that these words were foreign to him. He seemed to ponder them for a long time, as if they were some complex riddle. But it was a riddle that was slowly becoming easier to understand.

"I know that, now," he confirmed at last, albeit with some hesitance.

Hermione smiled warmly at him. "Good," she stated, simply.

"Yeah…good," he agreed, gazing at a point in the distance with his eyes unfocused.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked after a moment.

Leaning back, Harry sighed heavily. "Well…do you suppose that's enough emotional upheaval for one day, or what?"

"Probably enough for a lifetime," Hermione confessed.

"I wonder if it really helps," he mused, turning his head to face her. "Am I going to be miraculously less screwed up in the morning?"

Hermione pursed her lips in a McGonagall like fashion as she looked at him.

"Just a question," he shrugged.

"For the most part, no," she answered honestly. "Not tomorrow."

"Next Thursday, then?"

"It's going to take time, Harry," she said, ignoring him. "More emotional upheavals, more sadness, maybe some anger. Only you know what's buried deep inside of you. And you just have to…dig it all up."

"And what happens if I don't?"

Hermione wrung her hands together. "Well, erm…according to _Healing Grief, Finding Peace, _the more you try to bury a particular emotion, the more you actually end up having thoughts and feelings about it," she stated. "So it becomes sort of...counterproductive."

Harry let out a small chuckle. "You've been reading books about this?" he said, looking up at her.

"Well, yes," she replied uncertainly. "But to be honest, most of them are complete rubbish. They don't really outline what to do when your best friend comes home after fighting in a war against an evil dark wizard."

"Shame, that."

Hermione nodded, biting her lip. "The most important thing, though, is—well, that you know you're not alone, right? I'm here…always."

"I've noticed," he replied softly, giving her a small smile.

She smiled back in full, feeling her insides tingle with warmth.

"You really don't have to do all that, though," he said in a serious tone.

"Do what?" she asked.

"Read all those books."

She shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, it's not like I mind. I mean this is me we're talking about."

Harry smiled to himself. "Of course," he said. "But I appreciate it, nonetheless."

"Hey, can you do me a favour, though?" he asked, suddenly.

"Sure, what is it?"

"Can you, er, find my glasses? I can't see a blasted thing, right now," he admitted, squinting his eyes in the darkness.

She couldn't help but giggle in response.

"Oh, sod off," he said.

"Do you want them, or not?" she asked, crossing her arms in a superior fashion.

"I do very much, yes," he replied.

Hermione bent down to retrieve them and noticed a crack in one of the lenses which caused her to smile fondly.

"What?" Harry asked, noticing the look on her face.

"They're broken," she stated, simply.

"Yes, I can see why that would be cause for happiness," he responded.

Hermione gave him a look. "It just reminded me of the countless times I had to fix these because you couldn't be bothered to learn the spell," she said, throwing them at him.

Harry caught his glasses deftly as a wistful smile appeared on his face. "But you just do it so well," he insisted.

She clucked her tongue in annoyance. "It's a very simple wand motion, you know. I can teach you right now, if you want," she offered.

He stared at her from his languidly slouched position on the bench, and raised one eyebrow.

"I'll take that as a 'sounds like a great idea, but maybe next time, Hermione'?"

"Took the words right out of my mouth."

Rolling her eyes, she tapped the lens with her wand and repaired it with one fluid motion.

"Good as new," she said.

Hermione placed the glasses carefully on his face, her fingers brushing his ears in the process. She was surprised to find that they were somewhat cold despite the pleasant evening air, and had to fight the bizarre urge to feel them again.

Shifting her gaze up to meet his, she was, as always, thrillingly drawn to his emerald orbs.

_God, they are so beautiful_, she reflected, feeling her heart hammering in her chest.

_Okay, look away…look away before you do something stupid. _

_But they're just so green…_

_Come on, you can do it, just look somewhere else, anywhere else. _

_But—_

"Thanks," Harry said, pleasantly, effectively breaking her out of her reverie.

Hermione cleared her throat, moving far enough away from him that it didn't appear too obvious. She remained silent for a moment, mentally scolding herself.

"So, do you think we should start heading back now?" he asked.

"We probably should, yes," she replied, not looking at him.

They remained mostly quiet on the trek back, both wrapped up in their own individual thoughts. When they reached the back door of her parent's house, however, Harry placed a hand on her arm to stop her.

"Thanks, by the way," he said somewhat awkwardly.

Hermione shrugged in response. "I didn't do much, Harry."

"You did enough."

She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear for lack of an intelligible response.

Harry simply smiled at her in return, but it was that warm kind of smile that she loved. The one he used only once in a while and that made her feel like she was the most important person on the planet.

After a few seconds of silence, he was no longer smiling, but still looking at her with such warmth in his eyes that it caused her breathing to speed up.

Then suddenly, three things happened at once.

Harry leaned down to place a soft kiss on her cheek.

The back door swung open with a loud "There you are!"

And Hermione and Harry both turned deep shades of crimson.

She stared up into the jovial face of her father, feeling utterly mortified. She wasn't sure what was causing her face to heat up more, the overly curious look on her dad's face, or the fact that—

_Harry just kissed me!_

_Sure, it was a simple peck on the cheek, but…_

_Harry just kissed me!_

_Okay, slow down. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. _

_I don't care HARRY JUST KISSED ME. _

_Yes, we're definitely taking this too far…_

She wasn't sure when it happened, but as Hermione looked to her right, she noticed Harry was just about as far away from her as the small porch allowed, and that his face was still sporting a vivid blush.

"Whatchya doooin'?" her dad asked, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed.

"Nothing, Dad," Hermione replied tightly.

And it was the truth. No matter how much she didn't want to admit it, there was nothing sinister about a friendly kiss on the cheek. Sinister in a father's eyes, anyway. And although the spot where Harry's lips had touched her skin was still tingling pleasantly, she was willing to bet that his intentions were completely innocent.

"What took you kids so long? We were starting to grow worried."

Hermione looked discreetly at Harry who was still standing there quietly and with his complexion back to its natural shade of, well, pale.

"We got lost," she said in mock frustration, not wanting to admit the real reason they had taken so long.

Harry shot her a quick grateful look that thankfully went unnoticed by her dad.

"Couldn't you just teleport back here?"

Hermione rubbed her temples tiredly. "Okay, first of all, we don't 'teleport', we apparate," she explained. "Second of all, yes we could have, but we figured…hey, what's life without a little adventure? And third of all, are we done with the interrogation? Harry and I would like to come inside now."

He looked at the pair of them somewhat suspiciously for a moment, before stepping aside to let them in.

Once inside, Mrs. Granger immediately rushed over to them with relief written clearly on her features.

"I knew it was silly of me to worry, but you were gone so long, and I'm a mother, so it's only natural, really…"

Her mum continued to babble on as she led them all to the sitting room, but Hermione was momentarily pulled back by her dad.

"Yes?" she asked slowly.

He cleared his throat. "Was there any…_hanky panky_ going on tonight between you and Harry that I should know about?"

She gaped openly at her father. "What—why would—are you—?" she spluttered. Taking a deep breath in, she decided to start over. "What on earth gave you that idea?"

"Wait," she said suddenly, putting her hand up. "Don't answer that."

"Oh, honestly, you're being childish," he chastised.

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Look who the child is now!" she said petulantly.

"Still you."

Hermione groaned loudly.

"All I'm saying, dear, is that, well, you did take an awful long time on that walk of yours. And you seemed mighty close just now on the porch, as well…"

"My God, Dad, I told you we got lost," she said huffily. "And what you saw back there was a simple, _friendly_ peck on the cheek. Between _friends._ No 'hanky panky' whatsoever."

Her father crossed his arms, eyeing her shrewdly for a moment.

"And you're sure _nothing_ happened in that tent during all those months?" he asked suspiciously.

"Oh for the love of…" she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. "I'm not even going to dignify that with a response."

"Or maybe you're just evading the question," he whispered conspiratorially.

She was about to stalk away, before she stopped and turned back around.

"Okay, you know what, humour me for a second," she smiled. "What would you do if I said that we did take part in some…hanky panky? Hmm?"

A look of extreme discomfort passed over her father's face.

"Well, let's see…first I'd kill him," he reasoned, earning a glare from his daughter. "And then…well…"

"Then?"

"This is all hypothetical, of course?" he reaffirmed.

"Of course."

He appeared to be in deep thought for a moment. "Right, well then I'd castrate him," he concluded with a pleasant smile.

She scoffed loudly, turning on her heel and walking away from him.

"And then I'd be happy for you," he called after her, amusement lacing his tone.

When Hermione entered the sitting room, she spotted her mother placing a full plate of biscuits in Harry's one hand and a large mug of tea in the other.

"Er…thank you, Mrs. Granger," he said.

The older woman nodded. "You just eat up, dear," she smiled warmly before walking back into the kitchen.

"I think my mum's trying to fatten you up," Hermione declared as she took a seat next to him.

"Really, what gave you that idea?" he remarked as Mrs. Granger walked back in with large piece of chocolate cake and set it down in front of him.

"Just this crazy theory I have," Hermione replied. "You know, it's funny. I don't seem to be getting any dessert."

"Here," he offered, shoving a biscuit in her mouth.

She let out a muffled cry before shoving Harry roughly in the shoulder, but he immediately let out a small yelp as steaming tea spilled onto his trousers.

Hermione clapped a hand to her mouth. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, looking around for a napkin. "Here!"

She put his mug down on the table, and then brought the napkin to his jeans in an attempt to wipe the spot dry. It was only when she placed her hand firmly on his thigh that she realized that her hand was…

_Placed firmly on his thigh…_

_Okay…_

_Er…what was I doing again?_

_Handling his firm thigh…wait, no…_

"Hermione," Harry stated, interrupting her thoughts.

"W-what?"

"It's fine, I can take it from here," he insisted.

_No…_her mind protested meekly.

"Oh right, sorry," she said, handing over the napkin.

"Did Harry have a little accident?" a loud voice announced.

Hermione could hear Harry groan to himself as she looked up at her dad.

"I accidentally spilled tea on him, okay?" she clarified.

Her father clucked his tongue dramatically. "Got lost in his eyes again, did you, dear?" he asked, winking at her.

Hermione gave her dad a death glare, but was saved the trouble of responding by the reappearance of her mother with tray of scones for Harry.

"I don't know when you two were planning on returning home, but I think it's best if you stay the night. We can discuss all the rest of the details in the morning," Mrs. Granger offered.

"Of course," Hermione agreed.

"There is the small matter of there only being one guest bedroom, though," her mum stated, looking between the two.

"I can sleep anywhere, it's fine," Harry replied, immediately. "Hermione can take the bed."

"I will not," she responded, stubbornly. "Harry can take the bed."

"You both can take the bed," her dad suggested, innocently.

"_Dad!"_

"David!"

"Mr. Granger!"

The older man held his hands up defensively. "Just a suggestion."

"Well, in any case, if Harry wants to be the chivalrous man, then you can't deny him that, Hermione," her dad pointed out as if it were obvious.

Mrs. Granger sighed. "He's right. There's no point arguing with men on matters of chivalry, dear," she told her daughter. "It'll only cause you mental anguish."

Hermione huffed in annoyance. "Fine," she agreed grudgingly.

_I preferred Dad's suggestion, anyway_, she thought slyly as she headed up the stairs with a smirk on her face.

* * *

><p>"You're sure you don't want me to take the couch?" Hermione asked uncertainly. "Because I wouldn't mind it at all. I mean it's just silly, really. Who says that men always have to sacrifice the better sleeping arrangements? I, for one, think it's simply unfair. In fact—"<p>

"Hermione," Harry cut her off. "Just go to sleep."

She scoffed, folding her arms tightly across her chest. "Fine. But just so you know, if we were staying here another night, it would be me on the couch and you upstairs."

"I know, I know," he replied, giving a giant yawn and waving her away.

He brought the blanket all the way up so that only his black mess of hair was showing.

"Goodnight, Harry," she whispered with a small smile on her face.

He mumbled something incoherent in response.

Hermione flicked the lights off, and turned to head up to bed. At the top of the staircase, she ran into her mother who had an amused smile plastered on her face.

"What?" Hermione asked, with one eyebrow raised.

Her mother only smiled wider.

"You have it bad, dear."

* * *

><p>AN: Getting better at the update time, yes? Hopefully the next chapter will come out even quicker :o Thank you guys soooo much for all your feedback for the last chapter. You are awesome and wonderful and everything good in the world. I really really hope you enjoyed this chapter. It was long and tiresome on my part, but always fun to write nonetheless. Let me know what you think, good things, bad things, any things! Thanks again for reading and I hope you have a stupendous day :)


	37. Chapter 37

_Bittersweet. Perhaps the most horrid taste. It's harsh, but comforting. Scary, but liberating. _

_How does one deal with bittersweet? _

_I knew somehow, then. I knew things would change. Whether the change would be good or bad, however, was yet a mystery. And it scared me, to be honest. I didn't really want things to change…but then I did…but then I didn't. _

_It was all so bittersweet. _

* * *

><p>Returning home proved to be a simple task for the Grangers, much to Hermione's relief. All objects in the house were packed, shrunk, and stowed away for transport, courtesy of Harry and Hermione. And after all affairs were settled, they were ready to take the portkey back to England.<p>

"And we just put our finger on it? Just like that?" Mrs. Granger asked dubiously as she stared at the broken wireless on the ground.

"Yes, it'll feel a bit weird, but it definitely beats sitting on a plane for twenty-one hours," Hermione stated, pushing her father's hand away and hissing a "_Not yet, Dad!"_

"When does it activate?" Harry asked her.

"In about three minutes, so everyone be prepared."

"What if my finger slips?" Mr. Granger questioned, suddenly.

"It won't," Hermione replied.

"Because it's physically impossible or because it's never happened before?" he pressed. "There's a first for everything, you know."

"Then let's hope you're not the first," she answered swiftly.

They all stared at the portkey in silence until, finally, it began to glow a soft orange colour.

"Fingers on!" Hermione ordered.

After the all too familiar tug at the navel, the four of them went spiralling through a whirlwind of images and colours to tumble seconds later onto a hard ground.

"Ouch…"

Lifting herself up, Hermione glanced over at her father who appeared to be nursing a sore elbow.

"I may have forgotten to mention the rough landings," she expressed ruefully.

Mrs. Granger looked around, taking in the surroundings before turning to her daughter. "Are we behind the house?"

Hermione nodded, smiling widely. She felt a sudden surge of excitement bubble within her at the thought. It had been over a year since she'd last been home.

_Home…_

_I'm home._

"Well, come on, then!" Mr. Granger announced, beckoning for his wife and Harry to join him.

Deciding she couldn't wait any longer, Hermione ran ahead of the group, determined to catch the first glimpse of the familiar rosewood-coloured bricks.

She could remember taking this very same path countless times as a child. Spending long summer days reading a book under the shade of a tree and then racing home through a thicket of well-memorized branches to make it in time for dinner.

Hermione let another smile grace her features as she reached her destination.

It was a lovely home, really.

"Hurry up, you lot!" she called, watching impatiently as they trudged behind her.

"Why all the haste?" her father asked as he approached.

Harry gave her an amused look. "Apparently she has a thing for running through wooded areas," he said.

Hermione grinned, recalling their last adventure with a portkey.

"Is that some sort of euphemism for drugs?" Mr. Granger said suspiciously. "Have you given my daughter drugs, Harry?"

Harry was saved the trouble of responding by Mrs. Granger coming to drag her husband away.

"Close call on that one," Hermione whispered.

"I know," Harry replied, feigning a look of anxiety. "For a second, I was worried I'd have to tell him about all those mushrooms you picked for Ron and me."

She rolled her eyes and threw him a scowl. "You're a git," she stated matter-of-factly.

Mrs. Granger turned to look at the pair of them. "That's no way to talk to a guest, young lady," she admonished, giving Harry an apologetic look.

He shrugged his shoulders. "It's fine, Mrs. Granger. I'm used to it."

Hermione watched as her mother patted Harry gently on the arm and led him inside the house without a second glance at her daughter.

_Well, I see I've been replaced, _she thought sardonically, following behind them.

The house held a musty smell from lack of use and there was a thin layer of dust upon every surface, but despite that, Hermione couldn't help but gaze lovingly at it all.

"Oh, dear…" Mrs. Granger exclaimed, softly as she walked through every room. "This is going to take a lot of time and energy to fix up."

Hermione cleared her throat. "You know, Mum, I could make things move a whole lot quicker," she suggested, brandishing her wand in front of her.

Her dad supported this idea with gusto, her mum, however, wasn't as easy to convince, claiming that it felt very much like cheating. In the end they settled for Hermione clearing away the dust, while her parents, much to Mr. Granger's dismay, set to unpacking all of their belongings.

"My room's just up here," Hermione said, leading Harry upstairs. "It's the only part of the house that was left untouched. Well, that and the attic. I placed some strong repelling charms on both doors so my parents wouldn't accidentally stumble upon them."

"Aren't we going to go in?" he asked when she simply stood staring at her door.

She nodded quickly, taking a deep breath in. "Here goes nothing…"

Opening the door, she was instantly met with familiar lavender walls and her welcoming bed. She was happy to note that nothing had changed since the last time she'd been here.

Hermione couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious as Harry followed in after her and turned his head every which way to observe her room for the first time.

"What do you think?" she asked, taking a seat on her bed and watching him as he scrutinized one of her bookshelves.

"It's great," he answered warmly, turning to face her. "Definitely a girl's room."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that's its…quite clean. Cleaner than mine and Ron's rooms, anyway," he responded, picking up a picture frame and smiling at it.

"Nice outfit," he commented, as Hermione rapidly snatched the frame away from him.

"Oh, shut it," she quipped, blushing at a younger version of herself in a pink leotard and tutu. "I was five years old and taking ballet lessons."

He shrugged innocently. "No need for explanations," he insisted, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.

"I think that's enough with the pictures!" she said immediately as his hand landed on one of her dressed as a witch for Halloween.

Harry seemed to find this particular photograph exceedingly humorous.

"_What_ is so funny?" she demanded as he continued chuckling.

"You're a witch!" he exclaimed, as if it needed no other explanation.

Hermione stared at him.

"Look," he said, showing her the picture. "Your face is painted all green and you have a fake wart on your nose."

"Yes, Harry, I was there."

"Well…" he prompted with his hand, as if waiting for her to grasp the idea. "Don't you find it the least bit funny? It's like foreshadowing!"

She shook her head, smiling slightly despite herself. "It's slightly amusing," she conceded, finally. "But only just."

This seemed to satisfy Harry as he continued his perusal of the items on her various shelves, making comments here and there as Hermione laid down with her arm propped up against her head.

"Merlin…how many copies of _Grimm's Fairy Tales_ do you own?" he asked from his crouched position by the bookshelf nearest her bed.

"Only two and a half," she replied, somewhat defensively, staring up at the ceiling.

Harry poked his head up to look at her. "Do I want to know what happened to the other half?"

"Nothing ominous," she assured. "I bought that last one at a used book sale. It was only two pounds!"

"Boggling, that…" he mumbled loudly enough for her to hear.

"Well," Harry declared some ten minutes later, plopping himself down on her desk chair, "your room is…very _you_."

"I'm glad," she laughed. "I would hate for it to be someone else."

Hermione sat up against her headboard, holding a pillow in her arms as she observed Harry.

He was leaning against the chair with a far-off look in his eyes that could only mean he was deep in thought about something.

"Knut for your thoughts?" she asked.

Harry instantly broke out of his stupor as he turned his head to look at her. "Oh, it's—nothing important."

She shrugged. "You can tell me anyway," she offered.

"It's…it's stupid."

Hermione stayed silent, waiting to see if he would continue.

"Just this thought I had," he said quietly.

"What was it?" she asked, carefully.

Harry sighed heavily. "I was just thinking about—well, what it would be like…if my parents hadn't died. If—if I had my own room. It's stupid, really. But I was just wondering what colour it would be or what sort of things I would have on my wall. You know…things like that," he explained, refusing to meet her eyes.

Hermione shook her head, firmly. "That's not stupid," she breathed, feeling an impossible hollowness in her chest.

He was still staring at the same spot on the wall, however.

"What would it be like?" she asked, suddenly. "Your room, if you could have it right now. What would it be like?"

Harry seemed to consider this for a moment. "I don't really know," he admitted.

"What colour would the walls be?" she said, encouragingly.

"I like red," he replied somewhat hesitantly as he looked up at her.

Hermione smiled at him. "Red it is!" she exclaimed. "Would you want a darker, more calming red or a really bright in your face red?"

"Like the Gryffindor common room, I suppose. More dark and calming," he answered after some deliberation.

"Perfect," Hermione stated, grabbing a pad of paper and pen. "What size bed?"

Harry's eyes appeared to brighten with a sort of child-like excitement as he began to ponder. "Big…but not too big…perhaps like yours."

"Floor: hardwood or carpet?"

"Carpet."

"Posters on your wall?"

"Yeah, Quidditch, definitely. Puddlemere United."

"Photographs?'

"A bunch. Some on the walls, some on shelves, some on my desk."

"Books?"

"A fair few. Mostly advanced ones on Defence Against the Dark Arts."

On and on they went, with Harry spouting out answers and Hermione scribbling down every last detail until they both had a clear vision of this imagined bedroom engrained in their minds.

When she was finished, Hermione carefully tore the pages off the pad and folded them neatly.

She stared into Harry's eyes, searching them silently. "It's yours if you want it," she said softly, placing them into his hand.

Harry looked down, gazing intensely at the folded pages. He tightened his grasp on them ever so slightly, and looked back up at her.

He nodded.

* * *

><p>By evening, the house was back to semi-working order with boxes still littering various rooms and walking spaces. Hermione and Harry were helping out some with the kitchen despite Mrs. Granger's protests.<p>

"You really don't have to do this, Harry," her mother said yet again, as he sat on the ground organizing the cutlery.

"It's no trouble," he assured her for the umpteenth time.

Hermione knew he was, in fact, being truthful. Doing these mundane tasks seemed to help him immensely in keeping his mind off things.

They had written a letter to Ron earlier explaining that they had brought her parents back to England and were helping them settle down.

Hermione still had all her belongings at the Burrow, and would eventually have to go back and retrieve them. But if she were being honest, the thought of seeing the Weasleys left her feeling a bit anxious. And though he would never say it aloud, she knew Harry felt the same way. Because going back to the Burrow was like going back to reality.

She felt terrible merely thinking it, and shook her head as if to rid herself of these musings. Her mum, however, appeared to be on a similar train of thought.

"You know, Hermione, I was thinking," she began, turning around to face her daughter as she wiped the inside of a glass, "Your father and I should really pay a visit to the Weasleys. Not only have they taken you in and looked after you all these years, but we have to pay our respects. It's utterly tragic, what happened to their son. I can't even imagine how Molly must be feeling…"

Hermione nodded, feeling the familiar sense of sadness envelope her as she thought of Fred. "I'm sure they'll appreciate it," she replied, softly. "We told Ron we'd come by as soon as everything was settled here."

Mrs. Granger smiled sadly. "I'm sure he misses you two, already. You're quite an inseparable bunch, aren't you?"

"Yes, we are the 'Golden Trio', after all," Hermione stated, exchanging an amused glance with Harry.

"Harry, are you sure you haven't grown tired of this menial work?" Mrs. Granger asked suddenly, as if only just remembering he was still there. "Why don't you just go and have a kip upstairs. Hermione can call you down for dinner. We're ordering in, would you like anything specific?"

"Er…" he replied. "I'm fine, really."

Mrs. Granger put her arms on her hips and levelled him with a calculating gaze.

"I'm having fun," he insisted in a voice that sounded as if he was a child being reprimanded.

"You're having _fun_?" Hermione laughed out loud, turning her head to look at him. "You're going to have to do better than that."

Harry scowled at her. "Fine…I want to help out and there's nothing better to do."

Mrs. Granger sighed. "Well, if you're going to twist my arm about it," she declared, handing him a box filled with plates, "then be a dear and stack these in the cabinet."

After many hours of unpacking, cleaning, and rearranging, the Grangers and Harry finally decided to call it a night.

"The guest bedroom hasn't been set up yet, but there's a mattress on the floor so you two will have to fight for it," Mr. Granger told Harry and Hermione with a yawn. "Don't kill each other, goodnight!"

"Where do you think you're going?" Hermione asked Harry, stopping him in his tracks.

"To sleep…" he answered, slowly.

"I recall stating that the next time we were in this sort of situation, you would get the bed," she said, folding her arms over her chest.

"Oh, come off it," he replied. "This is a completely different situation. It's _your_ bed to begin with. Therefore, you should be the one to sleep on it."

"I don't care. My house, my rules," she shrugged.

Harry threw his head back and groaned. "It's a mattress, not the floor of a cave. I'll be completely comfortable."

"You'll be even more comfortable in my bed," Hermione retorted.

The sound of a door opening caused both of them to go silent as they turned to see Mr. Granger poke his head out.

"Yes, hello," he acknowledged. "Some of us would like to sleep tonight. So if you could both pipe down, that would be lovely."

"You're taking the bed," Hermione reaffirmed, turning back to look at Harry.

"Why do you have to be so difficult? It's your bed, you take it."

"I'm not being difficult, I'm being reasonable. Just go."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"_Just get in my bed, Harry!"_ she shouted, her proclamation echoing off the walls of the empty landing.

Silence met her words, and she realized too late that that particular statement sounded a lot better in her head than it did aloud.

Her dad cleared his throat in the awkward silence. "Well, you can't really say no to an offer like that, can you lad?" he murmured suggestively, causing Harry to turn beet red.

Hermione could feel her own face burning up spectacularly, and she whipped her head around to glare daggers at her father. "_Leave!"_ she muttered through gritted teeth.

The door instantly closed with a loud _click_ that reverberated off the walls.

"I am _so_ sorry," she said quietly, covering her face with her hands and letting out a muffled groan. "We're not related. I swear we're not related…"

The sound of soft chuckling caused Hermione to cease her ramblings. She looked at Harry through her fingers to see that his face had returned to its normal colour and his eyes were filled with mirth.

She watched him warily as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and fell against the wall behind him, his head lolled back and staring at the ceiling as he continued his quiet laughter.

"Oh, God…he's turned you all barmy," she declared with a worried expression.

"You know, Hermione, if it weren't for your resemblance in looks and uncanny intelligence, I'd have to agree that you and your dad are definitely not related," he proclaimed, staring at her with sparkling eyes.

The look he gave her did nothing to ease her already flushed cheeks.

"Well…what's that supposed to mean?" she responded, folding her arms somewhat defensively. "You know what? Don't answer that."

She led him to her room and flicked on the lights, gesturing for him to enter.

"I guess I've officially lost the battle, then?" he stated, jumping onto her bed.

He laid himself down, his hands clasped behind his head and his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles.

Hermione simply stared at him for a moment.

_Sweet Merlin, he looks good…_

_And in my bed, too…_

_Get a grip, get a grip, get a grip. It's just Harry, remember?_

_A gorgeous, very desirable-looking Harry…_

"Sorry, what?" she asked suddenly, realizing he had just spoken.

"You finally got me in your bed," he explained, waving a hand over himself. "You win."

Hermione choked on her own saliva, all memories of their earlier skirmish vanishing momentarily.

"You okay?" Harry asked with a confused look as he sat up.

She cleared her throat and nodded, giving him a thumbs up sign. "Yeah, yeah I'm…peachy. Just swallowed funny. Must have gone down the wrong pipe," she stated, giving another almighty cough.

"Ah, I hate it when that happens," he frowned sympathetically, lying back down.

Hermione gave him a weak smile as she mentally composed herself once again.

"Well, anyway, point for Granger!" she declared, letting out a nervous laugh that thankfully went unnoticed by Harry.

He was too preoccupied at the moment, it seemed.

"Are you…_sniffing_ my pillows?" she enquired, raising an eyebrow at him.

He turned around to look at her with a guilty expression. "They smell like flowers…It's nice."

Hermione laughed. "Well, I'm glad you approve. Aren't you happy you lost the battle, now?" she smirked. "And, hey, shoes off, Mister!"

She pushed his legs off the bed with a small glare that quickly melted away due to his apologetic smile and her shattering resolve.

She internally groaned. He was just too cute for his own good.

"Change into your pyjamas and go to bed," she ordered with her best stern voice.

"I don't have any pyjamas, remember?" he pointed out.

"You can transfigure your clothing into pyjamas, remember?" she countered, imitating his low voice.

Harry chuckled quietly to himself.

"What?" she demanded.

"I was just imagining the look on your face if I suggested going to sleep starkers, instead."

Hermione's mouth nearly dropped open as she glowered at him.

"There it is," he grinned in satisfaction. "Well worth the oncoming abuse."

And indeed, Hermione left no room for mercy as she continuously clouted him over the head with several pillows and one or two lightweight books.

"I surrender, I surrender!" he exclaimed, his arms raised above his head as he both laughed and cried out in pain.

Giving him one last thump on the shoulder with _Goshawk's Guide to Herbology_, which admittedly was not a very lightweight book, Hermione finally relented.

She breathed heavily through her nose, blowing a piece of stray hair from her face as she stared down at him.

"Call it even?" Harry suggested timidly.

Hermione studied him for a moment with a shrewd look.

"Fine," she relented at last. "But you best go and change, otherwise you're getting the floor tonight."

Harry grinned broadly. "Goodnight, Hermione."

"Night, Harry."

She turned around to head to the guest room, ready for a nice long slumber after all the hard work of the day. It was rather unfortunate, therefore, that she couldn't seem to get the blasted image of an unclad Harry out of her mind.

* * *

><p>Hermione knocked on the door, taking a step back to stand next to her parents and Harry. She felt oddly nervous for some reason as she looked upon the familiar outline of the Burrow. Before she could pinpoint why, however, the door swung open to reveal the kind, but tired face of Mrs. Weasley.<p>

She ushered the four of them in, shaking Mr. and Mrs. Grangers' hands and enveloping Harry and Hermione into warm hugs.

"Oh, it's so good to see you again, dears," she whispered into her ear. "It's not quite been the same without you both here."

"We missed you all, as well, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said.

Before the older woman could reply, a rush of footsteps could be heard clambering down the staircase and everyone turned to see Ron racing over to Harry and Hermione.

He came to an abrupt halt and stood there awkwardly for a moment, but then immediately threw his arms around both of them.

He let go soon after, however and took a step back, his hands stuffed in his trousers. "It's erm…good to have you back," he said in a much deeper voice than he usually spoke with.

Harry and Hermione simply smiled at him in return.

"Ronald, where are your manners?" Mrs. Weasley hissed at her son.

Turning slightly red, Ron turned around and came face to face with Hermione's parents.

"Er…hello. It's nice to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Granger," he said shyly, sticking out his hand.

Mrs. Granger quickly moved his hand away as she wrapped him up in her own embrace. "It's very nice to meet you, too, Ron. We've heard so much about you!"

Ron's face turned even redder as she let him go, but he smiled nonetheless and turned to face Mr. Granger.

Unlike his wife, the man did not appear overtly pleased to be making the acquaintance of the younger boy.

Hermione knew this was due to what she'd told her parents about the hunt for the horcruxes. She suddenly wished she'd left out the part about Ron leaving. It would have made this situation a whole lot less awkward.

Luckily her mum seemed to have realized what was going on, and Hermione saw her discreetly pinch his arm, causing him to force a smile on his face and shake hands with the red-head.

After calling her husband from the shed, Mrs. Weasley led them all into the sitting room. Ginny followed down soon after, exchanging warm greetings with everybody and taking a seat next to Hermione.

"You look good," Hermione said with a soft smile to the girl.

Ginny shrugged. "I'm doing a bit better. Every day is a little less painful, I suppose. And George comes down for meals all the time now. I think that's helped a bit for all of us."

Hermione nodded in understanding.

"I was so glad to hear about your parents, Hermione. Really…I mean…I was just…I was really glad." Ginny paused, looking down and blinking her eyes rapidly. "Oh Merlin, look at me. I'm bloody crying. I keep doing that these days."

"Hey," Hermione said, putting her hand on the girl's shoulder. "I'd be more worried if you didn't."

Ginny took a deep breath in and nodded.

A sudden silence fell over the room, and they looked up to see George standing by the entryway.

"Hello," he announced, hesitantly.

"And you must be George," Mrs. Granger said warmly, as she shook hands with him. "It's lovely to meet you, dear."

George murmured something in return and nodded his head politely before walking over to Harry and Hermione.

"You wayward youths have at last graced us with your presence, I see," he muttered with a small smile.

The smile didn't quite reach his eyes, but Hermione was still pleased, nonetheless. For a moment, it was almost like he was back to his normal self, and she could feel a seed of hope inside her for all the Weasleys that she hadn't felt before.

After having dinner (Mrs. Weasley had insisted on cooking), Mr. and Mrs. Granger headed home while Hermione decided to stay the night so she could have time to gather all her things, and simply because the others insisted she stay.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny headed up to Ron's room where they played a game of Exploding Snap while filling each other in on their respective weeks.

Hermione found that when they were together like this, playing a fun, meaningless game and exchanging pleasant banter, it was almost as if they could forget, for just a moment, the world around them.

They were so young, after all, when she thought about it. All of them barely adults in the muggle and wizarding world, alike. And Hermione found that she wasn't too keen on growing up just yet. She wanted this time to laugh and play and simply be young. She wanted this time while it lasted.

"No, no, no, no!" Ron exclaimed, as the pile of cards slowly started emitting smoke.

Harry, Hermione, and Ginny instantly ducked their heads to avoid the oncoming explosion. When they looked back up they discovered a disgruntled Ron with one eyebrow singed.

"Right, that's it!" he declared, standing up. "I quit."

Ginny giggled. "You're just upset because you're on a three game losing streak."

"Anyone up for some chess?" he asked eagerly, ignoring her remark.

Everyone groaned simultaneously.

"You know none of us can beat you," Hermione said, snappily.

"Speak for yourself," Harry interjected. "I got you that one time in fifth year, didn't I, Ron?"

Ron stared at him with his eyebrows knitted in confusion. "Er…"

"Remember?" Harry implored insistently. "Come on…don't tell me you forgot."

"Sorry, mate…"

"Perhaps it was a dream?" Ginny asked innocently, trying and failing to hold back a laugh.

"Oh, very funny," he stated sardonically. "I'm telling you, I beat him once!"

"Was he conscious at the time, Harry?" Hermione asked in mock seriousness.

The three of them instantly burst out into laughter, causing Harry to roll his eyes.

"Perhaps a rematch is in order, then?" Ron suggested, after they had finally settled down.

Three gruelling matches later, Harry was no closer to defending his claim. "Maybe it was a dream," he mumbled, annoyed, leaning back against the wardrobe in defeat.

Hermione, Ron, and Ginny proceeded to shower him with placations that could only be described as brutally patronizing and that caused him to laugh out loud despite his stubborn attempts not to.

After receiving a chocolate frog to the head, Harry finally shoved them all away.

"Whatever, I challenge all you sods to a game of quidditch tomorrow. Then we'll see who's laughing," he said, taking a bite out of his frog.

"I'm in!" Ginny agreed immediately with a gleam of competition in her eyes.

"Me too," Ron said, raising his hand.

Hermione smiled wanly. "I'll keep score," she suggested. Then quickly added: "From the ground."

As expected, all three of them burst out into protest. Ginny hung off her arm, whining like a child and Ron was booing her loudly.

"You can't play with three players, Hermione. You just can't," Harry stated in such a matter-of-fact voice that he sounded bizarrely like herself.

"We have this conversation every time!" she huffed, removing Ginny from her arm. "Not only do I not enjoy quidditch, I also happen to be terrible at it. So why do you insist on torturing me?"

"Because you always give in eventually," Ron voiced aloud, earning a chuckle from Harry as the two of them shared a discreet high-five.

Hermione pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. "Well, not this time," she responded clearly, standing and dusting herself off. "You'll just have to find someone else, or invent a way to play with three people."

"Who else is supposed to play with us? Mum?" Ron asked.

All of a sudden the mood in the room seemed to change. No one said anything, but they were all thinking the same thing. There _was_ someone else in the house that could play. Someone who loved quidditch just as much as the next person. _George._

"Unless…" Ron added faintly.

"You know he's not going to want to join us, Ron," Ginny muttered quietly to her brother.

The tension was thick as everyone avoided each other's eyes.

Hermione swallowed thickly. "Well, I mean…I'll play, it's no big deal. I've managed to survive past matches…"

They all nodded in acknowledgement, but the energy in the room had greatly dissipated now.

It was back to reality again.

Hermione sighed heavily.

Reality—it was like a bug that constantly buzzed in their ears, but that they couldn't swat.

* * *

><p>For the life of her, Hermione couldn't fall asleep that night. She continued to toss and turn in the camp bed in Ginny's room, but no matter what she did, sleep was stubbornly evading her. So after a while, she simply lay there, letting hundreds of thoughts rush through her mind, which of course only caused her to be even more alert.<p>

She was staring at the ceiling, drumming her fingers lightly against her stomach when she heard the tell-tale creak of a stair outside the door. Figuring someone was simply up for a late night snack, she chose to ignore it.

However, when whoever it was still had not returned upstairs after several minutes, Hermione was starting to grow curious.

She groaned softly to herself, suddenly realizing she was never going to fall asleep tonight.

Throwing back her covers, Hermione tip-toed past Ginny's bed and slipped through the doorway. She figured she would try and see who this late night wanderer was and why they had not yet returned to the comfort of their bedroom.

She walked down the stairs as quietly as she could and took a peak into the kitchen. She frowned slightly when she saw the room to be empty.

_Maybe they were really quiet on their way back up_, Hermione reasoned, turning to head back upstairs.

A noise in the sitting room made her stop, however. It sounded like someone was sniffling.

From the sliver of moonlight she saw Ron, and with a sudden jolt she realized that he was crying.

Hermione knew she should go back upstairs, she knew he would never want her to see him like this, that he would be beyond embarrassed. Yet, she couldn't seem to control the movement of her feet at the moment.

"Ron?" she whispered, standing in the doorway.

His head shot up immediately and he looked at her with wide eyes. "Bloody hell, Hermione, you scared the pants off me!" he said, his voice sounding scratchy.

"I'm sorry," she replied guiltily. "It's just, I heard someone go downstairs, and I was wondering why you didn't come back up…"

He turned his head away from her, trying to wipe his eyes quickly with his hands.

"Ron…?" she said again gently, walking slowly toward him.

"What?" he retorted.

She was quiet for a moment, searching for something to say. She had never, in all the years she'd known him, seen Ron cry. It was such a bizarre sight that seemed to shake something in her very core.

She took a seat next to him on the sofa and turned to face him. "Are you okay?" she asked, mentally chastising herself.

_It's quite clear that he is not okay, genius._

"I'm fine," he responded in a tone that clearly proved he wasn't.

Hermione sighed softly. "You can talk to me," she insisted, touching his arm. "Say whatever you want and I'll listen."

"Hermione, really, I'm fine," he stated again, shaking her hand off him. "I was just…I was…"

"You were crying," she said, causing him to grimace.

"Look, this was a one time thing, okay? I don't go bawling my eyes out every night like a little girl. I just came down here because I didn't want to wake up Harry," he insisted, standing up and heading for the stairs.

"Ron," she said a little stronger this time. "It's nothing to be ashamed of! You can't just push this aside like it's nothing. You'll never heal that way."

"Who says I need healing? _I'm fine_," he hissed, turning around to face her. "Just leave me alone, alright?"

He was about to walk back up the stairs when Hermione reached out to pull him back. She wasn't entirely sure why, but she just knew she couldn't let him push this aside.

"What?" he asked in a low voice.

"You are _not_ fine," she stated emphatically.

Ron stared at her for a moment.

"Please…" she continued, searching his eyes. "Just talk to me."

He stood there in silence for a moment, before falling unceremoniously onto the step below him. Hermione muttered a quick silencing charm around them, and then sat herself down, as well.

"You said that this was a one time thing," she began. "Well, what triggered it?"

He rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes, and mumbled something under his breath that she couldn't quite decipher.

"What was that?" she asked.

"I said it's stupid," he clarified, with a somewhat biting tone.

Hermione sighed, leaning her had back against the wall and staring at him.

"I just had this dream."

"What kind of dream?" she asked, carefully.

"It was just…did you ever have those dreams where someone in your family—or someone you care about—dies? It's really sudden, and you're not sure how it happened, but you just sort of know?" he said, staring intently at his feet. "And you start crying in your sleep, and you wake up and you're still crying. But then all of a sudden, you realize it was a dream. And you feel so relieved that you just want to run up to that person and hug them and never let go…"

"You're just so happy that they're alive," he added, his voice breaking slightly.

He turned to look at her with tears in his eyes.

"I had a dream like that, Hermione. I had a dream that Fred died…but when I woke up—"

His words cut off for a moment as he let out a sudden heart-wrenching sob.

"I can't run to him and hug him because it's not a dream. No matter how many times I wake up, he'll _always be dead…"_

Ron was openly sobbing in a manner that made Hermione shake with her own tears. She wrapped him in her arms, and he seemed to hold on for dear life as she whispered words of comfort to him.

It felt so strange, holding him like this and having to comfort him. Yes, Ron had his insecurities and self-doubt, but his life had never been filled with the same grief that someone like Harry had. For the most part, Ron had always been happy and comfortable, and she mourned that loss of him as she mourned the loss of Fred.

She knew now, for certain, that none of the Weasleys would ever truly be the same again.

* * *

><p>Ron's eyes were still somewhat bloodshot the next morning, but as this was not an unusual occurrence amongst the family, no one made any comment.<p>

Hermione caught his eye and gave him a gentle smile that caused him to blush and look away in embarrassment. She was not fazed, however. There weren't many things in life that caused greater mortification than openly crying in front of someone else. She just hoped he understood that she would never share that incident with anyone.

As Harry joined the breakfast table, she couldn't help but reflect on the differences in the manner in which the two grieved.

She'd seen Harry break down more than once in her life. And it seemed that nearly every time, his tears stemmed from anger. He shouted and moved about as if he needed some way to release the building emotion trapped inside of him. And when he cried, he rarely ever made a sound. He huddled into himself and didn't seek out touch or comfort.

Ron was different. He'd tried to push away from her at first, yes, but when he'd finally given into his grief, he'd given into it fully. His tears were loud and desperate, and he clung to her and revelled in her touch.

It was a stark difference, but not an altogether surprising one. And it was one that clearly resulted from their very different backgrounds.

This thought caused a slight pang in her chest as she turned to wish Harry a 'good morning'. He smiled at her, though and she was pleased to note that he physically looked much better than he did the last time they sat around the Burrow's kitchen table.

His skin was no longer pallid and his eyes no longer lifeless. He was still unbearably thin, but he'd started to slowly regain some of his previous weight. She doubted that he could ever fill out completely. Disregarding the effects of his dismal childhood, Harry was simply naturally leaner than most people.

And perhaps unfortunately for him, overbearing mothers like her own and Mrs. Weasley seemed to be under the impression that they could change that. Which they couldn't. Despite the traditional third helping that Mrs. Weasley forcefully scooped up for Harry.

"Oh, no no no! I don't think so," Hermione whispered furiously as Harry discreetly placed three strips of bacon onto her plate.

He gave her a pleading look, but she merely pursed her lips and returned them to him.

"I'll burst if I eat another bite," he murmured.

"Not my problem," she muttered out of the corner of her mouth.

"Hey, mate, you going to eat the rest of your bacon?" Ron enquired loudly through a mouthful of eggs.

Harry looked as if Christmas had come early and eagerly passed his plate over, despite Mrs. Weasley's protests.

Hermione shared an amused look with Ginny across the table. She felt a strange sort of contentment in knowing that no matter what happened, nothing could ever ruin Ron's appetite. It was sort of like a constant. She appreciated constants.

Like Mrs. Weasley constantly harping over Harry's weight.

Harry constantly sneaking food to others.

And she and Ginny constantly rolling their eyes at everyone's antics.

Yes, constants were good. They were safe.

* * *

><p>Later that evening, Hermione had finished packing all her things. She was planning on returning home the next morning since the Weasleys had practically forced her to stay another night.<p>

She knew it was going to be strange, going home alone. Harry and Ron assured her that they would see each other constantly, and as Ron had never been to her house, he was due for a visit.

For the moment, Hermione chose not to think of what the future would bring. They were past the midpoint of summer, and Harry's birthday was rapidly approaching. With that of course, would come the start of the school year.

The three of them had yet to discuss their plans, but somehow Hermione knew that Harry and Ron wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts. To be honest, she wasn't quite sure herself. It was a scary thought, her finishing off her last year without either of them by her side.

Too scary a thought to ponder.

Hermione shook her head and exhaled heavily. There would be time to think of that later.

_Time…_

Time was on their side now. After years of warring with it.

What would they do with all that time?

* * *

><p>AN: Well, here's another chapter. The story is slowly building now, but to what? Well, that is the question, indeed. Thank you as always for reading and giving me your feedback, you guys are quite spectacular, if I do say so myself. Any questions, comments, complaints, suggestions, just let me know! Sorry, these author's notes are usually quite sucky but I'm always drained after finishing a chapter and tend to ramble. Thank you again, I hope you enjoy!


	38. Chapter 38

_I think it affected me the way it did because I knew just what it felt like. I knew what it was like to be in that exact same position. _

_And a part of me will never forgive myself. It's irrational, I know. But since when has love been rational?_

* * *

><p>The ring of the doorbell caused Hermione to take a deep breath. She turned to face her parents, eyeing her father with a hard look.<p>

"If you love me at all, you'll be civil," she said seriously.

He crossed his arms and shrugged.

"Dad, I'm not kidding," she responded, her tone severe. "What happened between the three of us is _our_ business, not yours." She turned on her heel, feeling irritation bubble inside her.

Taking another deep breath in to calm herself, she opened the door to reveal two very familiar faces.

Seeing Harry and Ron instantly caused her to smile, and she engulfed them both into bone-crushing hugs. A week had gone by since she'd last seen them, and frankly, it had been much too long.

Mrs. Granger instantly showered both boys with warm greetings, as well and ushered everyone into the sitting room where her husband sat stoically in his armchair.

Harry, who apparently had not noticed the look on Mr. Granger's face, immediately walked over to the older man and shook his hand.

"Good to see you again, sir," he said politely.

"Likewise. We've missed you, Harry," Mr. Granger replied, momentarily abandoning his scowl for a pleasant smile, as he clapped the boy on the shoulder.

The smile melted away quickly, however, as Ron extended his hand in greeting, as well. "Hello, sir," he said, the tips of his ears already red.

Hermione watched as her dad took Ron's hand and shook it rigidly. He didn't say anything in return, but she was grateful, at least, that he wasn't openly glaring at him the way he'd done the first time they'd met.

She was surprised, however, to see Harry smirking to himself in amusement.

"What's so funny?" she whispered to him.

"Your dad's doing his 'initiation' thing with Ron, isn't he?" he said covertly.

Hermione's eyes went wide at the thought. She wished Harry's words were true. Unfortunately, it didn't seem her father was in the joking mood at the moment.

"Yeah…maybe," she responded, weakly, ignoring Harry's questioning look.

Everyone took a seat and Mrs. Granger proceeded to ask the boys about their respective weeks. Harry responded with companionable ease, while Ron inserted a few words and there, content to let his friend do the talking.

"Er…are you alright?" she heard Harry ask her dad quietly as Mrs. Granger directed a question toward Ron.

"I'm perfectly fine, son," he replied somewhat distractedly, turning to look at him. "Why do you ask?"

Harry shrugged. "You just seem a bit quiet."

Mr. Granger folded his hands on his crossed legs and sighed. "Well, if I haven't anything nice to say, I shouldn't say anything at all, right?"

Harry furrowed his brows in slight confusion, but merely directed his attention back to the conversation at hand.

Hermione rolled her eyes. She was quickly growing tired of her father's stubborn attitude. He had absolutely no right to be angry at Ron.

She knew, deep down, why he was being so hostile. Ron had hurt her. And if there was one thing in the world her father couldn't stand, it was someone hurting his daughter. Merlin knew it had happened enough in her childhood. In fact, if it weren't for the calming words of his wife, David Granger would have blasted down the door of every house in order to get to those snotty-nosed children who had made his little girl's life miserable.

Indeed, Hermione had been somewhat surprised that her father had taken so quickly to Harry. And while she'd initially attributed it to his overall charming and polite disposition, she knew that wasn't the only reason. It was the fact that he never hurt her, at least not intentionally. Quite the contrary, really, Harry lifted her up and made her happy, safe, and protected. It was written clearly on her face, and she knew her father could see it.

Harry cared about her. And that alone gained him all the respect in the world from her father.

Unfortunately, that also meant that Ron was going to have to work extremely hard to get back in the good books.

"What are your plans for your birthday, Harry?" her mum asked, effectively breaking through Hermione's reverie.

"I dunno," he admitted with a shrug. "I nearly forgot it was coming up, to be honest."

"Forgot?!" Mr. Granger uttered in mock-outrage. "Even I know it's this Friday, what with Hermione yapping about it every two seconds."

"Oh relax, I mentioned it twice," she countered, brusquely.

"Well, I'm sure Molly has an amazing dinner planned," Mrs. Granger stated. "Your mother is simply an artist in the kitchen—"

"Do you cook, Ron?" Mr. Granger asked suddenly.

They were the first words he'd spoken to the red head since they'd arrived, and everyone in the room was rendered silent for a moment.

"Um…not really, no," he answered.

Mr. Granger raised one eyebrow, and Hermione internally groaned.

This didn't bode well.

"Oh?" he asked, folding his arms. "Why's that?"

Ron visibly gulped. "I don't know how, I suppose."

_Oh, dear…_

"Don't know how?" the older man asked in surprise. "Well, why ever not?"

"Dave…" her mum said warningly.

"Go on, answer," he encouraged in a tone that made Hermione cringe.

"Well, erm…my mum usually does all the cooking. She likes to cook…" he added.

"There you have it!" Mrs. Granger said, clapping her hands together and forcing a smile on her face. "Now, about that birthday party—"

"Do you cook, Harry?" Mr. Granger interjected again, turning to the dark-haired boy next to him.

This time, Hermione let out an audible groan as she threw her head in her hands.

"Nothing spectacular," he affirmed, shifting in his seat.

"But you can get by?" her father reasoned.

Harry looked over at Ron who seemed to be extremely interested in his fingers.

"I suppose…I mean…if I had to," he replied, his voice petering out slightly.

"Are you quite finished?" his wife muttered vehemently.

Mr. Granger merely smiled and waved his hand for her to carry on.

The conversation continued on pleasantly enough after that with her dad staying mostly silent or exchanging a few words here and there with Harry.

On any other occasion, Hermione would be thrilled at seeing the pair of them get on so well. Today, however, it only made her father's animosity toward Ron even more apparent. And while Harry had tried to include Ron in the conversation every now and then, or in some cases, even try to talk him up a bit, her dad simply would not cooperate.

He was, unfortunately, even more stubborn than she was.

"Ron's a wicked keeper, though, aren't you Ron?" Harry stated after her dad had said something that she presumed was about Quidditch.

"Keeper…that's the equivalent of a goalie, isn't it?" Mrs. Granger asked with interest, despite the fact that she held absolutely zero interest in sports.

Ron appeared confused. "What's a goalie?"

Harry eyes widened for a moment as if in fear. "It's like a keeper except for football. Remember, that muggle sport Dean told you about?" he muttered hurriedly to Ron.

"Oh," Ron replied slowly, comprehension dawning on his features. "That barmy sport with only one ball?"

"Dunno what the appeal is, really," he added in amusement, letting out a small chuckle. "All those players running around on the ground kicking at each other. Must be dead boring to watch."

One could have heard a pin drop in the silence that met his words.

It was funny—in an out-of-body type of way—to glimpse a sort of light leaving Harry's face. She could even see his Adam's apple move as he swallowed. He did have a nice Adam's apple, though. Very manly, she mused.

Hermione sighed heavily to herself, massaging her temple with her hand.

"Well then I must be a dead boring man to enjoy it," Mr. Granger declared, causing Harry to wince slightly.

Ron instantly blanched. "W-what?" he uttered.

Her mother immediately rushed to his aid. "Don't worry, dear. You're absolutely right, football _is_ dreadfully boring," she said, offering the boy a smile.

Her father merely rolled his eyes.

"Well, do you like chess, Mr. Granger?" Harry asked suddenly, causing the man to give him a strange look.

"Not particularly…" he replied in confusion.

"So…you don't enjoy playing, or watching it for that matter?" Harry continued.

"_Watch_ a chess match?" her father said, amused. "I applaud whoever has the patience to do that."

Hermione smirked, quickly catching on. "Oh? Do you consider chess to be boring, Dad?"

He looked at her with suspicion. "Maybe…why, what are you getting at?"

Ron cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well, er…the thing is, I happen to like chess, sir," he offered. "A lot, actually."

A look of dawning appeared on her dad's face, quickly followed by annoyance.

"There you have it!" Harry exclaimed, brightly. "To each, his own. Ron likes chess. You like football. Ron finds football boring. You find chess bor—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, we get it, Harry," Mr. Granger interrupted, covering the younger boy's mouth and nudging his head to the side.

Mrs. Granger laughed heartily at her husband's expense. "It seems you've been trumped, your royal highness."

Mr. Granger merely scoffed. "This is all your fault," he addressed Harry. "You're a cheeky, little bugger, you know that?"

"Dave!" his wife reprimanded, despite futile attempts to keep a straight face.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Harry shrugged.

Her dad guffawed loudly, clapping a hand on the boy's shoulder.

Hermione silently chuckled as she observed the scene before her. She turned to look at Ron and immediately noticed that he wasn't as amused as everyone else. There was a small smile on his face, but it didn't quite seem to reach his eyes.

She felt guilt wash over her as she watched him, knowing that he wasn't aware of the real reasons behind her father's animosity toward him, and wishing suddenly that she'd warned him beforehand.

What was he thinking right now? Did he assume that her father simply hated him for no other reason than his lack of cooking skills and aversion to football?

_Oh, Merlin…how could I forget to warn him?_

Hermione bit her lip, looking back and forth between a joking Harry and a subdued Ron.

She knew Harry didn't mean it, and had no idea he was doing it, but at the moment he was really making things worse for his friend.

Deciding that she needed to take matters into her own hands, Hermione stood up abruptly, effectively cutting off all conversation.

"Erm…I'm going to go make tea," she announced lamely. "Harry, can you come and help me?"

Everyone looked at her strangely.

"You need help making tea?" he asked, slowly.

Hermione was silent for a moment, searching desperately for an excuse. "Well, it's just…I've always found your tea to be the best tasting," she answered, mentally slapping herself repeatedly.

She knew she didn't really have anyone fooled, but thankfully no one seemed to spot her real motivations as she tugged on Harry's arm and pulled him into the kitchen.

"I never realized you loved my tea so much, Hermione," he joked, once she'd closed the kitchen door behind her.

"You know that's not why I dragged you in here," she said abruptly.

"Care to enlighten me on why you did?"

Hermione sighed. "Okay, I need to ask you a favour, but it's going to sound very odd."

He raised an eyebrow, but waited for her to continue.

"The thing is…well, you've probably noticed that my dad hasn't exactly warmed up to Ron yet," she started.

"Yeah, I was wondering about that. At first I thought he was just messing him about, but…" he trailed off, with a bewildered look. "I dunno."

She sighed again. "I foolishly told my parents about Ron walking out during the horcrux hunt. I don't even know why I brought it up, but I was already explaining everything to them and it just seemed easier to tell the whole truth," she explained in a rush. "Anyway, it really angered my dad—don't ask me why, it's a long story. The point is, he's now chosen to give Ron the cold shoulder, despite my protests and despite the fact that it's none of his business."

Harry crossed his arms and leaned back against the countertop, a pensive look on his face. "Damn…"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "How very articulate of you."

"Well, do you think he'll let up on him?" he asked. "Your dad can be a bit harsh when he wants to…"

She scoffed. "You haven't even seen the worst of it," she replied. "However, there may be something you can do to help."

"Oh right, what was your favour?" he asked, standing up straight.

Hermione took a deep breath, steeling herself. "Okay, well, do you think you could just…not act like yourself for the rest of the night?"

Harry stared at her.

"Pardon?"

"How do I put this…" she said, looking around the room as if for inspiration and then letting her eyes land back on him again. "I need you to be…less likeable."

He looked at her as if she'd gone mad. "What?"

"I need you to be less likeable," she repeated with conviction.

"I didn't realize I was _more_ likeable," he responded.

Hermione practically groaned aloud. "See, you're doing it now!"

"Doing what?" he exclaimed, utterly bewildered.

"Being charming and charismatic and witty. And of course my father can't get enough. You should hear the way he talks about you when you're not around, it's as if you're the best of friends," she said sardonically.

"You're insane," he stated, promptly.

"Oh, quite the contrary," she countered, turning around to set the kettle on the stove. "You see, you may not know this, but you're making Ron look bad, and let's face it, Ron does enough of that on his own. He's not exactly the best at first impressions."

Harry walked up and pushed her wand aside as she was about to boil the water. "My tea is the tastiest," he said, matter-of-factly causing her to roll her eyes.

"Now, if—and please note the special emphasis on the word 'if'—what you claim is true," he continued, doubt clear in his eyes, "How exactly would you have me act?"

Hermione took in a deep breath and proceeded to list off on her fingers. "Stay quiet, don't make too many jokes, refrain from laughing and smiling, and don't be overly interesting, entertaining, polite, or endearing," she outlined clinically. "If you can do that, I think Ron may have a chance of surviving dinner with my parents."

Harry's mouth opened ever so slightly. "So basically what you're saying is…I should just sit there and look pretty?"

"Precisely," she gave a nod. "Well, actually, no. Scratch the looking pretty. Just sit there."

"Now you're just asking too much of me," he declared, making as if to leave.

Hermione laughed, grabbing onto his arm and pulling him back. "When Ron finally gets into the good books, I promise you can go back to being your wonderful self," she said, her lips twitching slightly.

"Wonderful, am I?" he asked with a smirk.

"Oh, practically perfect," she assured him. "Now you go sit down while I bring out your award-winning tea."

Harry snorted, and then turned to walk back to the sitting room.

Watching him leave, she smiled to herself.

_Yep, practically perfect…to me, anyway._

The rest of the evening passed smoothly enough, with the tension between her father and Ron lessening to a much more bearable standard.

Several times during dinner, however, both her parents discreetly questioned Harry if he was feeling alright. Indeed, he was abiding by all Hermione's rules quite spectacularly and only spoke when directly addressed.

She felt somewhat bad about the whole situation, but it was clear that his silence was allowing Ron to break out of his shell a bit, as he was now forced to make conversation on his own.

Later that night, after both boys had left, Hermione was in the kitchen with her mother washing all the left over dishes from dinner.

"Clever what you did there," her mum spoke suddenly, as she vigorously scrubbed a pot.

Hermione turned to look at her with her eyebrows furrowed in question. "What are you talking about?"

Her mum paused her actions to face her daughter, one arm placed on her hip. "Stripping poor Harry of his personality," she replied, pointedly.

Hermione didn't even bother trying to deny it, and turned back around to resume drying the dishes. "Desperate times call for desperate measures," she said with a shrug.

"Yes, I suppose," her mum conceded. "Remind me to hide the remote from your father tomorrow. You know how annoyed that gets him."

"He deserves much worse than that," Hermione declared, viciously drying a pair of knives.

The older woman carefully reached for the utensils and placed them further away from her scowling daughter.

"I agree," she replied. "But perhaps murder isn't the best answer, dear."

Hermione gave a small sniff of amusement as she slumped down into a kitchen chair. "I just want him to like my friends," she said grumpily.

Her mum smiled at her sympathetically. "He will," she assured her. "He's already half way there, and I'm sure Ron will grow on him eventually."

Hermione shrugged wordlessly.

Her mum took a seat across from her and grabbed the younger girl's hands. "Hey," she said in a conspiratorial voice. "Just be glad it's Harry that he's so fond of."

She looked up to see her mother give her a suggestive wink.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" she responded slyly, a smile tugging at her lips.

"Oh, you know—it'll just make things much easier if and when he becomes a real member of the family."

Hermione snorted loudly, and then slouched back against the chair, staring off into space. "Wishful thinking, Mum. Wishful thinking…" she murmured wistfully.

"And why do you say that?" the older woman asked seriously, propping her head up in her hand.

She turned and smiled sadly at her mother. "He doesn't feel the same," she answered simply.

"And he told you this himself?"

Hermione traced small circles on the wooden table top, as she felt a familiar sadness creep up on her that had been buried for a while now.

"Of course not," she whispered.

Her mother sighed, leaning back against her chair. "When are you going to tell him?" she said in an almost pleading tone.

Hermione gritted her teeth. "Not until I _know_," she retorted abruptly.

The older woman opened her mouth to respond but her daughter cut her off immediately.

"I love him. I love him so much," she stated, feeling a familiar stinging in her eyes. "And I just can't…I can't risk putting my heart on the line like that. I won't do it! Not until I know that he loves me back."

"Oh, Hermione…" her mum breathed, pushing the hair back from the younger girl's face and cupping her cheek. "How can you know if you never tell him the truth? What if he feels the same way, but he doesn't want to say anything? Are you really going to destroy your chances of being together simply because you're afraid?"

"Afraid_…my_ daughter, afraid?_" _she continued fervently. "That's not the Hermione Granger I know."

Hermione felt a single tear roll down her cheek.

"It's not about losing him," she responded finally, her voice feeling slightly scratchy. "I know that no matter what, he'd never give up our friendship."

"Then what's it about?" her mother asked softly.

"I'd rather be in this state of uncertainty—this limbo, than ever have to hear those words come out of his mouth. To hear his rejection…I simply couldn't…" she trailed off, throwing her head in her hands in shame. "God, I'm such a _coward_."

The older woman engulfed her daughter in a warm hug, rocking her gently as if she were but a child.

"No, love…you're human," she whispered gently.

* * *

><p>Hermione lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow was Harry's birthday and the first time she'd see him since her conversation with her mother. It was a thought that left nervous butterflies in her stomach.<p>

It wasn't as if she was actually considering telling him about her feelings. However, for the first time, she wasn't wholly against the idea, either. There was a miniscule seed of possibility implanted in her by her mother, and it was definitely a start.

Hermione sighed loudly, turning on her side and running a hand smoothly across her pillow. She then brought her nose down and inhaled deeply, a small frown forming on her face.

It didn't smell like him anymore.

The first couple of days after Harry had moved back to the Burrow, his scent had lingered in her bed and she revelled in it. After all, it wasn't very often that she had to chance to breathe him in without any inhibition.

She wished she could just bottle it forever like some sort of fragrance. It was so calming, so familiar. It tickled at her very heart and enveloped her in its warmth.

Hermione eventually drifted off into sleep as her mind continued to try and recall, in vain, the memory of his scent.

"Mum!" Hermione shouted from her open doorway the next morning, frantically brushing through her wet hair. "Did you see my red blouse anywhere?"

"What red blouse?" her mother's voice sounded from down the stairs.

"The one you got me for Christmas a couple of years back!" she yelled back.

"It's in the laundry room!"

"Thanks!"

After getting dressed, Hermione surveyed her hair critically in the mirror.

"Frightful, as usual," she muttered to herself, blowing a strand away from her face.

She loathed admitting it, even to herself, but she desperately wanted to look presentable today. Maybe even somewhat attractive.

At that thought, she scoffed and stuck her tongue out at the mirror.

_Ooh, very attractive indeed, Granger. _

She shook her mess of hair so that it fell over her face, and raised an eyebrow in a ridiculous attempt at looking seductive.

"How do you like me now, Harry?" she said in a deep titillating voice that immediately caused her to break into a fit of giggles.

_Oh, Merlin, I'm an idiot_, she mused.

"Okay, stop. Be serious," she demanded, pointing a finger at her reflection.

She tapped her chin, pondering what on earth to do with the unfortunate nest that sat upon her head.

"Ooh, I got it!" she exclaimed excitedly.

Taking her wand, she muttered a quick spell that caused her hair to form a perfect braid behind her head.

_Not bad, Granger, not bad._

"Oh, why thank you," she responded aloud in an overly posh voice.

_Okay, I really am going mental. _

There was only one thing left to do, now. The very thing she dreaded most.

Hermione took a deep breath and carefully unzipped her mother's make-up bag. She took out various items and placed them along her dresser, and then simply stared at them.

Most of the items, she'd never even touched before. Indeed, the only time in her life she'd worn anything besides good old cover-up had been the Yule Ball and Bill and Fleur's wedding. And on both occasions it was with the help of other, more talented people.

_Where were Lavender and Parvati when you needed them?_

And so, it was with unsteady and inexperienced hands that Hermione finally attempted the unthinkable.

And it was with those same hands that she dragged her mother to the loo half an hour later to fix the horrendous damage that she'd managed to create.

When she was finally finished, Hermione headed downstairs with her gift in hand to say good-bye to her parents and apparate to the Burrow.

Her dad's face broke out into an impish grin as his eyes travelled her up and down.

"What?" she said bluntly.

"Nothing," he replied much too innocently.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.

"I was just thinking that Harry is really going to appreciate your gift," he stated. "Oh, and also that box in your hands, as well."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she responded, practically snarling at him.

"Nothing!" he insisted with a chuckle as his wife pinched him painfully on his thigh.

"Ignore him, dear," her mother said. "He's just jealous that he wasn't invited."

Hermione pursed her lips, still eyeing her father distastefully.

"Look, what I meant to say was, you look very lovely today, Hermione," he stated in a pacifying voice. "Are you wearing make-up?"

"So what if I am?" she retorted, defensively, placing a hand on her hip. "I'm nearly nineteen years old, you know."

"I know, I know," he replied, raising his hands. "And the perfect amount, as well, may I add. Very natural, very beautiful. You'll knock Harry right off his feet."

Hermione stomped her foot childishly on the ground, throwing her father the same glare she'd given him since she was old enough to be self-aware. "This is _not_ for Harry!" she exclaimed.

She was lying through her teeth, of course. It was all for Harry.

But she'd rather be thrown off a hippogriff than admit that to her father.

She watched with glee as her mum pinched him in exactly the same spot, causing him to cry out. "Alright, alright! I'm sorry," he declared, moving to sit on the opposite end of the couch.

"Yeah, I'm sure," she responded sarcastically, crossing her arms. "Just because you fancy Harry, Dad, doesn't mean the rest of us do."

Her mother gave an almighty howl of laughter and levelled her husband with a gaze. "Should I be jealous, Dave?" she inquired.

Her father merely rolled his eyes, and then shooed Hermione out the back door. She waved goodbye and disappeared with a loud _pop_, landing on the outer edges of the Weasley's large backyard.

Giving herself a once over on the shed window, she knocked on the back door which was opened seconds later by a smiling Ginny.

"Hey, Hermione!" the girl greeted, enveloping her in a hug. She then stepped back a back a bit and gave her an appraising look. "Wow…you look hot!"

"What?" Hermione squeaked, suddenly worried that everyone would immediately spot her true intentions.

She then shook that thought. It was perfectly normal to dress up nicely for someone's birthday. And she was wearing jeans for Merlin's sake! She just needed to relax.

"Yeah, red looks fantastic on you," Ginny responded earnestly. She then gave a loud snort. "If I ever tried to pull off that colour, I'd just look like an old scab being reopened."

Hermione grimaced at that mental image, but let herself be led by Ginny into the sitting room where Harry, Ron, and Luna were already seated.

As her eyes fell on Harry, she felt butterflies immediately erupt in her stomach. He wasn't dressed too fancy, by any means, but he did have on a button-down shirt that matched his eyes perfectly. It was actually quite ridiculous how much the green seemed to pop. Ridiculous, but oh so enticing.

She greeted Ron and Luna, and then went to embrace Harry warmly.

"Happy birthday," she said into his ear.

An unfamiliar fragrance met her nose as she breathed in. She could still detect the Harry-scent, but this other foreign smell was much stronger and had a much greater effect on the already erratic butterflies in her stomach.

She stepped back and raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you wearing cologne?" she inquired with a small smirk.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, you can thank Mrs. Weasley for that."

"I just might. It's quite…nice," she admitted, going in for another whiff.

He pushed her away playfully, and then levelled her with his own look.

"What?" she asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"Nothing, it's just…You look really nice," he said sincerely, giving her a small smile.

Hermione fought hard to keep her blush down. "Thanks…you, too."

"What are you two blabbering about?" Ron called from the opposite side of the room, abruptly ending their exchange.

She was actually somewhat grateful, though as she feared she was seconds away from word-vomiting all over Harry's nice green shirt.

Phrases in her mind such as _'Merlin, you're gorgeous' _and '_Would you mind terribly if I just threw my lips on yours' _had been floating dangerously close to the speech centre of her brain.

"Who else is coming?" Hermione asked, pushing those errant thoughts away as she took a seat next to Luna.

"Neville should be here soon. Hagrid, Bill and Fleur are stopping by later, Percy, too," Ginny answered, ticking off on her fingers. "Oh! And Andromeda and Teddy!"

Hermione brightened up at this. She'd only seen Teddy once and very briefly, and of course it had been in the very worst of circumstances as it was his parent's funeral.

"Have you seen him at all since…?" she asked, trailing off slightly.

"Andromeda brings him by about once a week now," Harry replied, understanding her implication.

"She even taught Harry how to change a nappy," Ron added amusedly, clapping a hand on his friend's shoulder.

Harry groaned, slouching down in his seat. "Oh Merlin, don't remind me."

"Were you not successful?" Hermione asked with a small smirk.

"Success wasn't the problem. The problem was the…well, the…you know—"

"The excrement?" Luna supplied in a dreamy voice.

"Precisely," he stated, inclining his head toward her.

The other three immediately laughed at his expense, but were met with a glare from Mrs. Weasley who had just entered the room and apparently heard the latter part of the their conversation.

"Oh, hush up," she said sternly. "I think it's very admirable the way that Harry has fully taken on his responsibilities as godfather. You lot would do well to learn from him."

"We know, Mum, we're just teasing," Ginny stated, causing Molly to harrumph loudly.

"What's Teddy like, anyway?" Hermione asked with interest.

Before anyone could respond, however, there was a knock on the back door, and Mrs. Weasley opened it revealing none other than Andromeda and a baby Teddy nestled in her arms.

Hermione smiled softly as she noticed Harry's face light up when the pair walked into the sitting room.

"Happy birthday, Harry," Andromeda greeted warmly, adjusting the bundle in her arms as she placed a peck on the young man's cheek.

"Thank you," he replied, taking a peek at the bundle. "Is he asleep?"

"Unfortunately. Not even apparition can wake this one up. Heavy sleeper, just like his mother," she said lovingly, but with sadness clear in her eyes.

"May I hold him?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"Of course, dear. You know you don't have to ask," she insisted, gently passing the sleeping child over to him. "Although, I don't know how much entertainment he'll bring in his current state."

Harry shrugged, nonchalantly. "I was getting bored with this lot, anyway," he responded, giving them all a good-natured grin.

As everyone continued their now softer conversations around her, Hermione could only stare at the image of Harry sitting on the couch with the small blue bundle in his arms. He seemed content to simply hold Teddy and gaze at him, as if this was the most fun he'd had all day.

It felt sort of strange admitting it to herself, but she realized that Harry had never looked more attractive in her eyes than at this very moment. He'd always been a very caring person, but this gentle side of him made her heart swell immensely.

Hermione walked over and took a seat next to him. "What's it like?" she asked softy, her eyes on the gentle rise and fall of the baby's chest.

Harry looked at her and she was taken aback for a moment by the emotion in his eyes. "Incredible," he said sincerely. "I mean, I know I'm just his godfather, and he barely knows me yet, but…I sort of feel as if he's mine. Like he's a part of me, somehow. Like he needs me…"

"I've never felt that way about anything," he added quietly almost as if to himself. "I just hope I don't screw this up."

She brushed a gentle finger on Teddy's sandy brown hair. "You won't...He's going to love you so much," Hermione proclaimed, with a sort of awe in her voice.

Harry didn't say anything for a moment, but simply stared at the child in his arms once again. "I'll love him more," he replied finally, his green eyes glistening.

Teddy shifted at that very moment, his eyes blinking rapidly as they adjusted to his new state of wakefulness.

Hermione, who had never had much experience with small babies, was struck by how adorable his fidgety movements and small noises of discomfort were.

Just as she thought this, however, he let out a shrill cry that nearly pierced her ear drums.

"Merlin, that munchkin has pipes on him," Ron said loudly with a pained expression.

Harry merely chuckled as he held the baby against his chest and started rubbing his back soothingly.

She watched in amazement as Teddy quickly quieted down and rested his plump cheek on Harry's shoulder, turning his head sideways to look at her. Her heart nearly melted as his large eyes scrutinized her from the safety of his godfather's arms.

"You're quite good at that," she told him, more than a little impressed.

"Well, it's all natural instinct, really," he replied smugly.

Hermione raised a sceptical brow, knowing full well that the first time he'd tried to hold Teddy, he'd nearly dropped him out of fear.

"And a little of Mrs. Weasley's help," he conceded. "But only a little."

"Oh, I'm sure. How old is he now?" she asked, leaning in to blow gently on Teddy's little face.

He gave a small giggle and squirmed away from her.

"About four months," Harry answered, grimacing as Teddy tugged forcefully on his hair. "He really loves doing that for some reason."

Hermione laughed delightfully, never having seen a more endearing sight.

"You're going to go bald very quickly if you don't learn to put your foot down, Harry," Andromeda declared, as she and Molly walked in.

Harry brushed it off, handing the small child to his grandmother for feeding.

Hermione glanced sideways at him, grinning to herself. She had a feeling Harry would never learn to put his foot down where his godson was concerned.

After about half an hour, the rest of the guests had at last arrived, and everyone sat around a large table outside. Mrs. Weasley had once again outdone herself and cooked enough food to feed all of Hogwarts and then some.

Pleasant chatter filled the air as everyone reacquainted themselves with their neighbours.

"What have you been up to this summer, Luna?" Hermione asked politely to the girl sitting next to her.

"Daddy and I have mostly been out hunting," she replied, attempting very carefully to cut a pea in half. "We haven't been successful so far, but it's been nice to get away. Sometimes the world can be very suffocating."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "I agree," she stated. "It's great that you have that. You know…to escape the world."

"Do you have anywhere to escape?" Luna asked with interest.

She passed a fork through her potatoes as she pondered the question. "Books, I suppose," she answered, looking into the other girl's large eyes.

Luna nodded eagerly. "Oh, yes. Books can take you on many journeys. An excellent alternative to reality, in my opinion."

Hermione smiled, knowing full well the truth of those words.

"Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could be the author of own lives?" the younger girl added, a dreamy look in her eyes as she nibbled on her half-pea.

Hermione shrugged. "You could have whatever you wanted, I suppose."

"Oh, but would you?" Luna disputed earnestly. "That would make for a rather dull story, wouldn't you agree? No…I think every book needs a good struggle. Otherwise…well, it's not really worth it."

"But what if someone doesn't care for a worthy story?" Hermione countered. "What if they just want to be happy?"

Luna tapped her fork against her mouth, appearing to be in deep thought about this. "I guess it would depend on your definition of happiness."

Hermione scrunched her eyebrows, feeling rather lost in this strange conversation. "And what's _your_ definition?"

"Oh, I'd be much more interested to hear yours," Luna replied, smiling serenely.

The older girl sighed, suddenly regretting initiating this chat.

"You don't have to answer just yet. Questions such as these can take years, after all."

Hermione smiled wanly. "I'll get back to you then."

A small bout of silence ensued between the two girls.

"I should apologize," Luna said suddenly.

Hermione looked at her in confusion. "For what?"

"For my curiosity. Sometimes it makes others uncomfortable," she answered. "But you see, I was merely curious if you truly believed that having whatever you wanted would make you happy."

"Well...I didn't—I mean…what?" Hermione uttered, replaying their conversation rapidly in her head.

Before Luna could respond, however, their exchange was cut short by Mrs. Weasley bringing out a rather lovely looking cake and setting it down in front of Harry.

Hermione gazed at the scene before her, not really taking anything in as her mind continued to muddle through Luna's words.

Why was it that whenever she had a conversation with the whimsical blonde-haired girl, she was left with jumbled thoughts and a pounding headache?

She ignored these musings after a while, however, and let herself relax in the enjoyable atmosphere.

It was evening now, and everyone sat around the garden in lawn chairs or simply on the ground.

Mr. Weasley, Percy, Hagrid, Bill and Fleur were in deep conversation about the rebuilding of the ministry and having Kingsley serve as interim minister.

Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Tonks were farther down discussing life after the war, in general, each woman lending a sympathetic ear to the other when it was needed.

Harry, Ron, Neville, and George were sitting around a small table playing a game of cards and discussing Quidditch stats while Hermione, Ginny, and Luna were sat on the grass making faces at a giggling Teddy.

After a while, the three girls lay back on the ground as they stared up at the starry sky, Teddy in between them lounging on his blue blanket.

"I see a hamster," Luna stated, squinting her eyes and turning her head sideways.

Ginny mimicked her actions, and then frowned. "Nope, nothing."

"I can see the Big Dipper," Hermione offered.

Ginny gave her a look. "Minus five points for lack of creativity."

Hermione sighed in defeat, but returned to searching the night sky.

"How about you, Teddy? Do you see anything?" Luna asked the baby, who was currently chewing on a small toy owl.

"Ghrrrh gh mah…mmm," he gurgled, kicking his legs in the air.

"Hey, he's doing better than Hermione," Ginny said enthusiastically, earning a painful flick to the ear.

After some time, their star-gazing was interrupted as the boys came to join them on the ground.

"Looks like Teddy's got more game with the ladies than you do, Harry," George declared, watching as Ginny lightly tickled the baby's belly.

This earned a loud bark of laughter from both Neville and Ron, the latter roughly nudging Harry in the shoulder.

"Well I've taught him everything he knows," Harry assured them all.

"That poor, poor child," George stated, shaking his head solemnly.

Even Harry had to laugh at the unfortunate truth to those words.

"Do you suppose he'll be a metamorphmagus?" Ginny asked curiously.

"It'll be too early to tell. Metamorphmagi start exhibiting their powers after about a year. At first, they do it unconsciously, usually mimicking features such as the hair and eye colour of those around them. Conscious and full body transformations take years to master, however," Hermione answered, sounding as always, as if she swallowed a textbook.

"That must be wicked," Ron said wistfully. "I could make myself look much more buff."

"And much less ugly," George added, causing everyone to chuckle.

"I think I'd like to see the world through lilac-coloured eyes," Luna stated dreamily.

Neville frowned. "Wouldn't it just look the same?" he asked in confusion.

"Well I don't know, I've never had lilac-coloured eyes," she replied simply.

"Fair point," George said, inclining his head toward her. An uncharacteristically soft smile then formed on his face. "Look guys, the poor little bugger is completely knackered."

Everyone set their gaze on Teddy whose eyelids had indeed begun slowly drooping.

"He's quite lovely when he sleeps, isn't he?" Ginny sighed.

"He's always lovely," Harry corrected somewhat defensively.

Ron chuckled softly. "Not when he's screaming bloody murder, he's not."

They all gave small murmurs of assent.

"Shh, you'll wake him," Hermione whispered, covering the baby gently with his blanket.

Andromeda approached soon after, announcing that it was way past her and Teddy's bedtime. She said her goodbyes to everyone in the garden and wished Harry a happy birthday one last time before apparating home. Luna, Neville, and Hagrid followed suit not long after, and Harry thanked them all profusely for coming.

"Alright, everyone, it's clean-up time!" Mrs. Weasley declared, clapping her hands together.

Everyone groaned loudly, including Mr. Weasley much to Hermione's amusement.

"Ah, ah, ah, not you, dear!" Mrs. Weasley chastised Harry who was in the process of stacking chairs. "It's still your birthday, after all. You just go sit inside and relax, there's a good boy."

Hermione and Ginny shared an amused smile, knowing full well that Harry would never be able to relax with everyone else working. Nevertheless, he followed both girls inside and leaned awkwardly against the countertop as they proceeded to do the dishes.

It had become a sort of tradition many summers ago that the two of them would always share dishwashing duty. It proved to be a great time to catch up on girl talk, after all, as most of the boys endeavoured to stay as far away from the kitchen as possible. Therefore, they were both caught a bit off guard by Harry's sudden presence.

"Really?" Ginny asked him pointedly, as she and Hermione simply turned to stare at him.

"What?" he said, startled out of some sort of reverie.

"You look like a creep just standing there and watching us, Harry," Hermione supplied.

He flushed an amusing shade of red which caused Ginny to giggle. "I don't know what else to do," he shrugged sheepishly. "I don't really fancy sitting alone."

"Sit wherever you like, we're just joking," Hermione said, smiling at him good-naturedly.

The two girls then glanced at each other with mischievous glints in their eyes.

"So, I just had the absolute _worst_ cramps this month, do you think there's some kind of potion for that?" Ginny asked somewhat loudly in conversational tone.

Hermione pretended to be deep in thought about it for a moment, before shaking her head. "Nothing specific that I've heard of. A general pain relieving one usually does the trick for me."

She fought extremely hard to keep a straight face as she caught sight of Harry. Never before had she seen him turn such a shade of red, and the discomfort was so clearly etched in his features.

"Harry, are you alright?" Ginny asked suddenly, feigning concern. "You look a little flushed."

"Wh—no—er—I'm," he choked out, standing up suddenly and running a nervous hand through his hair. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked, walking up to him. She placed a hand on his forehead, and bit her lip. "Hmm…you're a little warm."

He turned, if possible, even redder.

"Maybe I should get him some pepper-up potion," Ginny suggested. "It usually works for me during—"

"I'm fine!" Harry interrupted loudly, stepping backwards and bumping into the table behind him. "I'm just going to go, um, you know…hang out with the guys outside."

He turned around and walked briskly out of the kitchen before they could say another word. And as soon as he disappeared, Hermione and Ginny instantly broke out into laughter.

"We're terrible. We are terrible human beings," Hermione said, wiping at her eyes.

Ginny only giggled harder, clapping her hands together like a seal. "I've never seen him so embarrassed," she exclaimed, her voice higher in pitch than normal.

"Well obviously, this is Harry we're talking about!" Hermione stated. "God, even Ron would have handled that better."

"Poor, poor, Harry," the redhead remarked, shaking her head. "Sometimes I forget that he's just an innocent little boy at heart."

Hermione smiled at that, letting the image of a blushing Harry replay in her mind as the two girls finally resumed their dishwashing duties. She couldn't help but find it so desperately adorable.

Once they were finished, Ginny headed upstairs for a quick wash and Hermione poked her head out the door to see if the boys were still out there.

"You all done?" she called, seeing only Ron laying on one of the lawn chairs outside.

He turned to look at her and nodded.

"Where did everyone go?" she asked as she walked over to take a seat next to him.

"Bill and Fleur just left, and the rest are inside, I think," he answered.

"And you're out here alone because…?"

"I was too tired to move."

"Of course," she replied, amused.

"What did you do to Harry, by the way?" he asked, suddenly. "He came out here looking like You-Know-Who had just come back to life."

"Why do you assume I did something to him?" she responded with one eyebrow raised.

"Because the only words I could get out of him were 'Hermione' and 'Ginny'," Ron said, crossing his arms in a superior manner. "What, did you two proposition him or something?"

Hermione scoffed loudly, throwing him a scandalized look and smacking him on the arm.

Ron simply chuckled. "Relax, I'm only joking."

"Obviously," she retorted, giving him a hard look. "And if you really want to know, Ginny and I were merely discussing matters of the feminine nature in front of him."

"What the bloody hell does that mean?"

"Language," she reprimanded. "And you know…_girl_ things. Girl things that tend to occur on a monthly basis."

He stared at her in confusion for a moment before understanding finally dawned on his features, followed soon after by disgust. "Ugh," he shuddered. "Why on earth would you talk about that in public?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We were only doing it to mess with him," she admitted. "But boy was it worth it. His face was so red I thought he was going to burst."

"I can't believe you," Ron said, shaking his head. "And you call _us_ immature!"

"Oh, relax," she stated, brushing her hand aside. "It's not like we went into any sort of detail."

"_Ugh!_" Ron repeated, waving his hands in front of him. "Stop right there!"

Hermione laughed vindictively, very much enjoying his discomfort.

"Can we talk about something else, please?" he practically pleaded.

"Fine," she conceded, lying back in her seat. "What would you like to talk about?"

Ron stared at her for a moment, his lips parted slightly.

She looked at him strangely. "What?"

"Er…" he uttered, turning his head away and looking around him as if he just noticed his surroundings.

"Ron?"

"Um…"

"Ron…?" she repeated slowly, now thoroughly confused with his behaviour.

"Actually, there is, um, something I wanted to talk to you about."

"What is it?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

"How's your dad?" he inquired abruptly.

Hermione scrutinized him for a moment. Somehow she was certain that this wasn't what he'd wanted to ask.

"He's okay," she responded, suddenly remembering what she'd been meaning to tell him. "Listen, Ron, about his whole…attitude problem the other day. Well, that was sort of my fault, really. He wasn't being harsh with you because of anything you'd done at the moment. It's just that I told him and Mum about you leaving during the horcrux hunt, and he sort of…resented you for it."

Ron didn't say anything, but his face had turned considerably paler.

"I shouldn't have told him. It was something private between you, Harry, and me. But it just sort of came out as I was telling them about the past year," she explained. "I feel terrible about it."

Ron cleared his throat and shook his head slightly. "No, don't. I mean…it's the truth, isn't it?"

Hermione sighed. "But it was none of his business to know. Harry and I forgave you a long time ago. It's in the past now, Ron," she insisted.

He just shrugged, avoiding her eyes.

She sighed again, this time louder. "Would you stop?" she demanded.

"Stop what?"

"Looking like someone's just kicked your puppy," she said, folding her arms. "It's only my dad, Ron. His opinion should hardly warrant such a miserable look on your face."

"Yet it does," he said so quietly that she had only just heard him.

She stared at him carefully. "Why?"

Ron rubbed his face suddenly, and leaned over with his elbows on his knees. He was acting in that same bizarre manner as he'd done before.

He exhaled loudly after a moment and finally looked up at her. "There's, um…something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

"Okay," she replied simply.

He visibly swallowed, and she was struck by just how nervous he appeared. What on earth could make him this nervous?

"It's about…during the final battle…"

And just like that, understanding crashed down upon her in forceful waves.

_The kiss…_

_Oh, no…_

_Oh, please, no…_

"Ron…" she said weakly, dread filling her very core.

This was just about the last conversation she ever wanted to have, but deep down, she knew it was inevitable. She couldn't run away from this any longer.

"You kissed me," Ron finally choked out, a hint of awe lacing his tone.

Hermione stared at her clasped hands for a moment, before pulling her head back up to see Ron gazing at her intently with his baby blue eyes.

God…that look in his eyes. It nearly broke her heart.

"Hermione…I…"

She shook her head silently at him, willing him to stop. But he didn't seem to understand.

"I have feelings for you."

Ron's eyes widened at his own proclamation, as if he couldn't believe the words had just come out of his own mouth.

She continued to stare at him soundlessly while her mind screamed an endless chorus of '_No's!'._

What was she supposed to say now?

How could she tell him that she only saw him as a friend, a brother?

Why, _oh why_, did it have to be her?

"You're not saying anything…" Ron said quietly, fear appearing in his eyes for the first time.

"_Oh, Ron_," she whispered.

He swallowed thickly as he stared at her. "Why aren't you saying anything?" he asked, his voice breaking slightly.

He cleared his throat gruffly, and looked away from her.

"Ron…that moment in the corridor, when I ran to you," she started hesitantly. "Well, I—I wanted to give you a simple kiss on the cheek. But then at the last second you…you—"

"No!" he exclaimed suddenly, standing up to tower over her. "I did _not_ imagine this. Don't you dare tell me it wasn't real, Hermione. Don't you dare!"

"Ron," she whispered again, feeling her eyes start to blur. "I'm so sorry…"

He started breathing heavily as he stared at her, looking as if he'd just been betrayed.

"You turned your head at the last second," she stated in a small voice.

Ron whipped around on his heel so that his back was facing her. He then let out a loud noise that sounded somewhat like a growl as he kicked at the ground.

For the first time since the start of the conversation, and since the start of their friendship really, she felt just the smallest bit frightened by him.

He turned back around suddenly then, and by the look on his face she knew that he had seen the fear in her eyes. He stared at her for a moment with is mouth slightly open in shock, and then just like that he crumpled defeatedly onto his chair, holding his head in his hands.

"You're afraid of me," he said, his voice quavering slightly.

"Ron, no…"

"Not really the emotion I wanted you to feel," he continued. He then hung his head low. "Merlin, I'm such a bleeding idiot."

"Can we please talk about this?" she implored, touching his arm.

But he immediately yanked it away from her, leaving her with a feeling of coldness seeping into her very heart.

"What's there to talk about?" he snarled. "I fancy you, you don't fancy me back. It's quite simple. Even a prat like me could figure that one out."

"You're not a prat," she said vehemently.

"I can't believe I actually thought I had a chance…" he stated, giving a mirthless laugh.

"Stop it!" she cried suddenly causing him to jerk his head up. "There is _nothing_ wrong with you. You're funny and caring and brave…"

She shook her head. "So incredibly brave…" she whispered. "To tell me how you feel? That takes a special kind of courage, Ron. And I _so_ admire you for that."

He stared at her somewhat wearily. "None of it matters, though," he said in that same monotone voice.

But although his voice held no emotion, his eyes were practically overflowing with it.

And it was then that Hermione saw it, she saw it as clear as day and it made her insides twist with agony.

He was in love with her.

She didn't know how, and she sure as hell didn't know why. But it was there.

Ron stood up a moment later, staring anywhere but at her face. "Can we just forget this ever happened?" he asked, his voice sounding scratchy.

She nodded wordlessly. "Ron…I'm so sorry…"

"It's not your fault," he muttered mechanically, turning away from her to head back inside.

"Please don't let this change anything," she called after him somewhat desperately. "You're my best friend…"

His back tensed automatically at her words.

She waited for his response, held her breath lest she miss it. But no response ever came. He simply walked silently back into the house without looking back.

Hermione felt like falling straight to the ground where she stood, but with a willpower she didn't know she possessed, she apparated back home, greeted her parents with a fake smile, and rushed upstairs to her bedroom.

Not a moment later, however she heard a knock on her door.

"Hermione?" her mother said softly. "What's wrong?"

Despite her inner turmoil, she had to appreciate the fact that no matter how well she put up a mask, no matter that she could fool her father quite easily, her mum would always be able to see right through it.

And so, it was with a heavy heart that she explained all that had occurred, letting tears fall freely down her face as she broke down in her mother's arms.

Because she was cursed to love someone that didn't love her back.

And because she was loved by someone that she couldn't love back.

And most of all, because she now knew just much pain could be caused by putting one's heart on the line.

And she wouldn't risk it.

No…she was not going to risk it.

* * *

><p>AN: I hope you enjoyed this new, and extremely long installment. The longest yet, I believe! Now, just because I know someone will ask this...what Hermione thinks and feels isn't always reality, therefore if she makes a statement about Harry's feelings, for example, we shouldn't assume it is fact. In other news, I recently updated my favorites section on my profile page if anyone is looking for some great stories to divulge in. I'm sure there are many other stories I've read that I've enjoyed but these are the one that stuck out to me, some for stranger reasons than others. But they're all great so yay! Anyway...as always let me know what you guys think! Questions, comments, complaints, whatever. Thanks so much for reading, good day :)


End file.
